


Long Way Home

by pene



Category: Glee
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can take a little time to find your way home</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Finn’s death is referenced throughout the story.
> 
> This is alternate canon, splitting off somewhere around Glease. It is a love story foremost, but some chapters are possibly a bit sad, particularly the first one.
> 
> Posting schedule: The story is finished but the last chapter needs editing. I will post every day for five days so if you’d rather wait until it’s complete you don’t have long to do so.
> 
> Thanks: to Corinna who has been champion and editor and brainstormer and cheerleader and everything since pining!fic was just a vague twinkle in my eye, and to podklb and stultiloquentia for providing much needed direction and enthusiasm and thoughtful suggestion.

The letter’s there when Blaine gets home from school. He pulls everything from the mailbox and sorts it while he walks toward his front door. He stops at the third envelope, frozen. 

He already has flattering offers from Columbia and the Boston College of Music and Fine Arts. But this is NYADA. The thought of studying at NYADA captured his heart and his imagination almost as long ago as Kurt did. 

Blaine unlocks the door and puts his messenger bag and the mail on the hall table. He picks up the thick envelope. 

No one else is home. His father is 30,000 feet in the air somewhere between DC and Columbus; his mother’s still in court.

He walks through the house and sits at the big kitchen table. The wood’s old. It’s marked with water stains and heat marks from a hundred dinners, a deep scratch from Cooper’s early and enthusiastic pointing-with-steak-knife demonstration. 

For a moment Blaine considers calling Cooper, or better yet Sam or Tina, and letting them talk him through this. But Cooper’s working all the time at the moment, playing a time travelling John F. Kennedy in a tv crime drama, Sam has no interest in college, and Tina tends to veer between crying and yelling at Blaine when he makes even indirect references to leaving high school behind. 

In any case, anybody he called would only be a distraction from the one person he wishes were here with him. He opens the letter alone.

_“Congratulations! I am delighted to offer you a place in NYADA’s graduating class of 2017.”_

He’s not quite sure how to feel. Relief and pride are tied tightly together with loss. Life was not supposed to go like this. 

_"Blaine, you were selected from an extraordinarily accomplished group of applicants. We are certain that your years at NYADA will be a time of unparalleled learning and development in the dramatic arts.”_

Blaine wipes his palms along his thighs as he looks up from the letter. Sunlight is streaming through the bay window at one end of the kitchen. It’s been a long winter. This is the first afternoon that really feels like spring. The bright expanse of their garden is dotted with new buds only his father and the landscaper can name. 

His relationship – friendship - with Kurt is still tentative.

It makes sense. Blaine cheated on Kurt. He hurt Kurt. He can’t think about it without feeling a heavy black pit in his stomach. He still wishes the ground had opened wide and swallowed him whole, clothes and shoes and all. 

Those first weeks were the worst kind of pain because he could only blame himself. There were times when he only left his room because he didn’t know how to explain to his parents that he no longer deserved the sun or the air or the company of other humans. 

He wanted to curl up and cry forever. He wanted to send Kurt apologies and promises in every language, carried by pigeons to New York, written in smoke signals across the sky. He did what he could. Sent flowers. Sent text after text. He couldn’t bear to turn off his phone for fear Kurt would contact him. He couldn’t bear to leave it on because every message, every phone call, every Facebook update was never, ever him. 

When the message finally came, it was worse than silence. 

_If I ever meant anything to you, please stop. Stop messaging, stop phoning, stop sending flowers. You need to let me stop thinking about you._

Blaine shut his eyes and let his tears spill onto his cheeks. The phone buzzed again. _You’re only hurting me more._

So Blaine stopped all contact. Just weeks before, Kurt had been everything Blaine ever wanted to see. But somehow Blaine would need to grow accustomed to Kurt’s absence. 

They didn’t communicate for three and a half months. Blaine focused on school and Glee and his friends and reading all the _A Song of Ice and Fire_ books and following the same-sex marriage battle and saving black and Javan rhinos and not throwing himself down the nearest deep hole in a fit of shame and sorrow. 

When he heard that Kurt was expected at Mr Schue and Miss Pillsbury’s wedding, he steeled himself for it. The reality was still a shock. 

Time apart had only made Kurt more stunning - leaner and more pulled together in his suit, but still with those same quick, soft eyes that Blaine loved. Those eyes flickered to Blaine as Kurt walked past where he was sitting to slide in beside Rachel and Mercedes in the pew in front. 

It was the small, tired, ugly part of Blaine that wished Kurt looked worse - sad or worn out or just lost without Blaine. The best parts of him were happy. Kurt was the most extraordinary person Blaine knew. Blaine had no desire to take that away. He spent the wedding ceremony and most of the reception trying not to watch every tiny captivating thing Kurt did.

So when Kurt unexpectedly touched his arm, he jumped.

“Can we talk?” asked Kurt. He was holding a champagne glass. Their friends were all on the dance floor or on stage or fading quickly at one of the tables. 

Blaine nodded immediately and spoke without taking breath. “Of course. Of course.” He followed Kurt to an empty table. 

There was a moment where they looked at one another. It went on too long even though it could never really have been long enough. Kurt twisted his champagne glass around where it rested on the table. He folded a rumpled napkin into a perfect square. Under the pink neon lights his fingers were adept and lovely.

“Your duet with Mercedes was great,” said Blaine eventually. “I loved the harmonies.”

Kurt’s little exhale was impatience and acknowledgement at once.

Blaine went on, “Kurt, I-”

Kurt interrupted. He met Blaine’s eyes. “Blaine, I know you’re sorry. I know. I honestly believe you. And I want to forgive you. I’m just- I’m not quite there and I’m not sure that we can ever fix this.” He sounded like he was in physical pain.

“Kurt,” said Blaine desperately.

“I’m not sure.” Kurt looked away. His voice was quiet. “But I do know I want to try.” He took a mouthful of his champagne.

For just a second Blaine hoped, wildly and irrationally, that after months of silence Kurt had simply decided that he still loved Blaine and wanted Blaine and was asking him to get back together forever.

But Kurt didn’t look at Blaine as he went on. “I want to try being friends again. Because I miss you and I… It’s been a long time. You were my best friend as well as everything else. Though it still-” He closed his mouth around the words and shook his head. His voice was ragged. “I just miss you.”

Blaine breathed through his stupid disappointment and blinked away tears. Over on the stage Rachel and Finn were singing _We’ve Got Tonight_. He made himself speak. “Friends. Yes. I’d like that,” he said. “I miss you too, Kurt. So much.”

Kurt sniffled a little. He took a breath before he looked at Blaine. His eyes were red rimmed. Blaine’s whole self ached to reach out to him. But Kurt’s body was closed off. Kurt said, low, “Okay. Okay. Before we- Blaine, I think you should know that I’m seeing someone. He’s uh- this guy. I’m seeing someone.”

Blaine nodded unthinkingly. He couldn’t say anything.

“I met him at NYADA,” said Kurt, filling the silence. “His name’s Adam. He’s an upperclassman there on the theater track.”

Blaine nodded again. What else could he do? It felt like someone was sitting on his chest. “That’s-” 

“He’s nice.”

Blaine forced himself to speak, if only so he wouldn’t hear more about this nice guy who was being all the things for Kurt that Blaine longed to be. “I’m glad you told me. I hope- I wish you the best, Kurt.”

Kurt pressed his lips together. “Thank you,” he said. “So. Friends?”

“Always.” 

Kurt half laughed this odd disbelieving laugh and looked up at the ceiling for a second. Then he said, “Your trio with Sam and Tina got everyone up on the dance floor. You guys sound amazing together.”

Blaine smiled. He didn’t say that he’d rather have sung it with Kurt. As it was, every word had been for Kurt anyway. When Kurt was around there wasn’t a lot of room for anyone else in Blaine’s heart. He couldn’t believe there ever would be. “Thank you,” he said. 

He held it together to gather up Tina, say goodbye to everyone and drive home, dropping Tina at her house on the way. She looked at him sympathetically as they climbed into his car and spent the trip telling him all the gossip she’d gathered from Mercedes and Ryder and Rachel. She didn’t mention Kurt once.

He held it together while he walked up the stairs, took off his bowtie and hung up his jacket. He brushed his teeth, flossed, and changed into his pajamas. He plugged his phone in to charge. Then he gave in, tumbled down on the bed and cried into his pillow. 

More than an hour later his phone vibrated with a message. He assumed it was Tina or Sam. Then another came and another in quick succession. Blaine wiped his eyes as he rolled over and reached for the phone. 

_Is this still your number??_

_This is Kurt i rembemered your number I deleted it but I still remembered is that weird?_

_Rachel says hi She also says you can never be friends with someone you were once in love with_

Blaine reads “were” and “once” there next to one another like that. “Were once in love with”. He inhales around the lump in his throat. He types carefully. 

_I’m happy you remembered. Let’s prove Rachel wrong._

There’s a long pause. Then. 

_Okay Thank you Blaine. And sorry,. drunk texting your ex after a wedding is not a great habit._

You don’t need to apologize. Just make sure you drink lots of water. 

So now they’re building a friendship. Blaine’s always been good at friendship. Since that conversation they’ve spoken once or twice a week, just catching up with one another’s everyday lives. They talk about school and classes and song selections. They talk about Kurt’s dad and Cooper and glee club. Kurt sometimes mentions Adam. 

It’s fun and it’s light and it’s never, ever enough. When they hang up Blaine is already waiting for the next time they speak. Sometimes he feels like he’s measuring time by Kurt’s phone calls.

He can’t call now. They spoke just yesterday. That’s not how things work between them. In any case, they haven’t mentioned the future since they had a future to plan together. Instead Blaine stretches his arms above his head and looks at the ceiling. He’ll see his mom and dad later tonight. He’ll tell Sam and Tina in the morning when he picks them up on the way to school. And Kurt? He’ll tell Kurt later in the week. Right now he wants to see what it feels like to hold this success all for himself. 

*

The first time he had sex with Adam, Kurt cried. The orgasm was still surging through his blood, shaking him, leaving him weak-boned. But he wanted to curl up in a ball. He wanted to hold himself closed and never ever let anyone touch him again. He was angry with himself. It was mortifying.

Adam stilled above him, looking down. “All right, love?” he said. Adam was gorgeous coming down, sweaty and out of breath and so very kind. His cock was softening in Kurt’s ass. He reached between them to hold the condom in place as he pulled out. Kurt inhaled through the emptiness and nodded. He wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand and lifted his head to draw Adam into a kiss. It wasn’t like he could explain, not here with his legs bent at the knees and Adam’s smiling eyes and quick lips on him. 

Adam didn’t ask again, just went and got a cloth to clean them up. Kurt watched him move to the bathroom. Adam was lovely, lean and confident in his skin. Alone in the bed Kurt took a deep breath and resisted the urge to cover himself up. 

Because the infuriating truth was that this intimacy, someone knowing what Kurt looked like when he had no hold on himself, when he was inarticulate and unfocused and the only thing in his head was how good he felt. This vulnerability and revelation and giving of his whole self inside and out, he’d thought it would only ever be with Blaine. Blaine was the only place where Kurt had known sweetness and safety. 

Of course, that was ridiculous. It was obvious in the end that Kurt had never been safe. He’d trusted too much. He’d let himself go. He’d taken things for granted. One way or another he’d failed. He should have known. No one gets to stay with their high school boyfriend and first love forever. However much Kurt had thought he and Blaine were different.

Kurt didn’t know the etiquette of having sex with someone on a fourth date, with a whole night ahead and no curfew, no one to come home and interrupt them. He rolled over to reach for his clothes. 

“You should stay,” said Adam sleepily. “If you’d like to.” His body was warm and appealing. Kurt stayed. 

In the morning they had sex again. Kurt lined his body up behind Adam’s and wrapped his arm around Adam’s narrow hips. His cock jutted into the space between them. 

“Do you like it this way too?” he asked Adam. He was unsure of how to word things. He sounded like a small town boy. He was unsure of his mind too. But he was going to be sure of his body. He was going to let simple biology and pleasure take over. He pressed his cock hard against Adam’s ass.

“I’m flexible,” said Adam. He let out a sleepy moan as Kurt wrapped a hand around his cock and started slowly jerking him off. “Truly flexible. Anything you want, sweetheart.”

“Hand me a condom then,” Kurt murmured in his ear.

Afterwards Kurt left Adam in bed and showered alone. The steam rose around him. The water was a relief, hot against his skin. He let it run over his face and down his chest. It washed all evidence of their morning from his skin. He didn’t cry. He stood in the flow and kept his mind focussed on the rush of water. He traced the edges of the wall tiles with a finger. 

That was then. Things are easier now. Kurt knows Adam. He is accustomed to the pleasure that Adam’s hands and mouth and cock can draw from him. Their time together is easy. Sex is laughter and release and comfort.

It’s 10pm. Kurt stretches out lazily in Adam’s bed. The studio is small and closer to Greenpoint than Williamsburg, but it has great light through its huge window and they have all the privacy they want.

Kurt’s clothes are draped neatly over a chair, pants and shirt and a vintage Parisian scarf. He came straight here from the Vogue offices.

Adam’s across the room reheating the take-out Chinese they abandoned earlier. He’ll probably want to eat it in bed. Kurt will protest, but in the end the inducement of having his naked, long-limbed boyfriend feeding him noodles and egg rolls in bed is likely to prove too much. At least he’s persuaded Adam to use the serving tray Kurt found in the thrift shop on Metropolitan. There are things you compromise on when you’re dating. 

“Want to try to catch a movie tomorrow?” Adam asks as he places the tray on the rumpled sheets. There are two boxes of Chinese and two beakers of wine. “The Nitehawk’s showing that French film you mentioned. The one with Gaspard Ulliel. Coup de foudre.” His accent’s admirable. 

Kurt takes a sip of wine. “Sounds good. You’re in class ‘til 6?”

Adam nods. He pops a mouthful of noodles into Kurt’s mouth. Ginger and soy and chili. Even with the wine’s acidity, it’s very good. “I certainly am. I’m taking that design-led performance seminar. It’d be interesting if they had found someone with actual industry experience rather than that tosser Jones-Tate.”

Kurt rolls his eyes supportively. “Okay. I’ll wait for you at the café,” he says. “I’m finished at 5.”

“You’ll have time enough for two of your terribly fashionable almond-milk lattes,” says Adam. He reaches across with more noodles. The sheets slip down to Kurt’s waist as he leans forward. It’s almost May but it’s also ten at night.The air is cool. Kurt shivers.

There’s nothing to fear here. There are no rules about eating Chinese food at ten pm. There are no restrictions, really, save those Kurt imposes on himself. There’s not even anyone to call and say he’s not coming home. The girls aren’t expecting him tonight and even if they were they might not worry. They know where he is. Rachel approves of Adam despite his insistence on leading the Apples contrary to her advice. And Santana just says, “At least you’re getting some.” 

This is what it’s like to live in New York, the city of Streisand and Gershwin and Ethel Merman. 

His phone rings. He glances at it on the bedside table. It rings again.

“You planning to answer that?” says Adam around an egg roll. 

“It’s Blaine,” Kurt says.

Adam’s eyes flick to Kurt’s for a careful instant before he turns back to the carton of noodles. Kurt answers the phone.

“Blaine, hi. Is something up?”

Blaine sounds hesitant as he says, “Not really, I just thought you’d be awake. Should I call back tomorrow?”

“No, no. You can’t leave me in suspense. I was awake,” says Kurt. “What’s going on?” He shakes his head when Adam offers him the noodles. 

“Okay.” There’s something nervous and maybe excited in Blaine’s voice. “I just wanted to let you know I got in. To NYADA. And, I know I haven’t run this by you but I thought. The musical theater program is- well, I still think it’s perfect for me. So I guess I thought I’d accept.” 

“You don’t need to ask,” says Kurt though it’s possible Blaine wasn’t actually asking. “Of course you should accept.”

“Okay,” says Blaine. There’s silence. Six months ago Kurt could never have imagined this conversation. 

“And congratulations,” says Kurt. “Seriously. That’s amazing. I’m so-” He can’t say proud. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Kurt.” There’s a smile in Blaine’s voice. Something else too. They both know this isn’t everything the conversation might have been. 

When Kurt sighs into the phone so does Blaine. It aches. But the silence has lost its awkwardness. 

“So, are you moving into the dorms?” 

“No, no, Sam’s moving there with me. He’s got plans to be a model. Well… I’m sure we’ll work it out. We’re going to find a place together. It’s pretty exciting.” 

It’s a jolt to think of Blaine in New York and not living in Kurt’s space. 

“I-” Blaine starts.

“I know,” says Kurt before anything is said. “And Blaine, you’re going to love it here. There’s a cafe inside NYADA with actual baristas.”

“Any mice?” asks Blaine. 

“I haven’t spotted one yet,” says Kurt “I’m keeping an eye out though.” Blaine giggles. “You’re going to love the classes, too. There’s a whole semester-long course on 1940s musical theater. And pop standards. Oh and wait ‘til you see the bulletin board. It’s got all the clubs and activities pinned to it. I think of you every time I read it. There’s a Dragons in Drama club. And an activist theater collaboration. They do pop-up guerilla performances.”

“Everything sounds incredible.”

“It is.”

Even long distance, with Kurt in someone else’s bed, there’s always a connection between them. There are days Kurt resents that connection for the way it reflects on all he has now. But tonight it’s welcome. It’s proof that despite everything that happened, he was loved. It was extraordinary. And though it ended badly, he had every reason to believe in it.

Kurt refocuses. He takes a breath. Okay.

“Well, thanks for calling, Blaine. You’ll let me know if you need any tips for moving up here? I haven’t been here long, but Adam knows a few things.” He’s aware of why he mentioned Adam. 

“I guess I’ll see you in New York,” says Blaine. 

“Definitely. Don’t forget the potluck every Monday.”

When they end the call, Adam raises an eyebrow. “So Blaine’s coming to NYADA,” he says. 

“Yep.” 

“Well that’s good news,” says Adam as though it’s not a big deal. He kisses Kurt swiftly and offers him the end of the noodles. 

“You did not eat all of that!” Kurt protests.

“Indeed I did and, love, I’d do it again. I need all the calories I can get to keep up with your youthful energy between the sheets.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Kurt giggles and briefly wonders how much of this gentle teasing is intended to remind him of where he is and the person he’s with. But Adam smiles and there’s nothing hidden behind it. 

They finish dinner, then make out and practice their Danish accents and lack of affect over an episode of the original series of The Killing. They go to bed.

Hours later Kurt is still staring through the dark at the shadows on the ceiling. Beside him Adam’s breathing has steadied into sleep. Kurt is wide awake. 

This is New York. It’s NYADA and performing and making moves to set the world on fire. It’s having a boyfriend, someone who likes him, holding hands on the street, kissing in line for coffee. It’s all sorts of things Kurt dreamed of back in Lima. 

But Kurt is furious. He lies on his back. He doesn’t sleep. He lets himself burn all the way to his core. Because this is the every day he dreamed up with Blaine. He’d imagined Blaine as the last thing he’d see when he turned out the light. The first thing he’d see when the sun came up. They’d planned this life over and over. This was their future together. This was their promise to one another. And they never got it. 

Adam sighs in his sleep and rolls over. He drapes a hand across Kurt’s waist. It’s heavy and warm. Kurt moves closer to him and closes his eyes. He wills his mind into quiet. Their dreams - his dreams might not have come true, not in the way he wanted, but at least he’s here.

**

(May 2013)

“Okay I’ve got one,” says Sam. He turns the laptop screen to show Blaine details of an apartment. They’re in Blaine’s room. Sam’s splayed out on the chair with the laptop, Blaine’s cross legged on the bed. It’s late but Blaine’s parents are out and Sam’s parents never mind when he gets back if he’s with Blaine. “Tell me that doesn’t sound perfect.”

“I don’t think I can move to New York,” says Blaine in a rush.

Sam frowns at him. “I don’t understand. Does NYADA have other campuses?”

“Maybe Boston will take me- or somewhere in California. UCLA has an excellent performing arts program. I could look into that.” Blaine takes a quick breath.

Sam is looking at him with a combination of frustration and fondness. “Okay. What’s this really about, Blaine?”

“It’s New York. I’m not sure I’m ready for it. It’s a very big place.” Sam nods slowly. Blaine knows he’s humoring him. He wants to stamp his feet so Sam listens. “And there are other schools. NYADA isn’t everything. I’ve always had a dream of learning to surf once I was in college. I’ve said it to you a few times. There’s no way I can do that on the East Coast.”

“Surf,” says Sam. “Nope, I don’t think I’ve heard you mention it since we watched Blue Crush last year.” He puts on his best Barbara Walters voice. “So. Blaine. I have to ask. Is this or is this not still about Kurt?”

Blaine groans. He closes his eyes and flops back onto his pillows. “You don’t get it. We had it all planned. New York. The apartment. NYADA. We’d find a favorite breakfast place. Go to the theater on Fridays. We’d explore the gay scene together. Shop. Experiment. Have a lot of sex. And now every single thing I do there is just going to be a reminder of all that I don’t have - a reminder of everything I destroyed.”

Sam looks at him for a long moment. “Destroyed? Dude. We’ve talked about this. You can’t take all the blame forever.” He holds up a hand to stop Blaine interrupting. “Anyway, it’s not about whose fault anything is. New York is your dream too. It’s been your dream for as long as I’ve known you. And you owe yourself a chance at it.”

Blaine takes a steady breath then nods at Sam gratefully. “Okay,” he says. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Walters.”

Sam grins. “See? We need each other. Who else would recognize the great lady of journalism?”

Blaine knows he’s lucky. He’s moving to New York City with his best friend. He has a place at the school of his dreams. He wants to be someone for Sam too. 

“The thing is, I don’t know if I can be happy without Kurt,” Blaine says. 

Sam spins on the chair for a moment then puts his feet on the bed. “You know what? I don’t think you should worry about whether you can be happy without Kurt. You just need to worry about whether you can be happy. Period. And you can.” He spreads his broad hands. “Dude, we are going to New York City. It’s all bright lights and big dreams and pedestrians there. Foods from all over the world. Gay men on every corner. We are going to love it.” He beams. “You’re not going to be thinking, I can’t enjoy this donut because Kurt’s not here. You’re going to enjoy the donut. And yeah, probably also be sad that Kurt’s not there. But the donut’s still good.”

It’s a weird kind of encouragement, but it involves Sam and baked goods and it sort of works. He has a whole life laid out ahead of him. Blaine doesn’t need to unravel everything from Kurt to take hold of it. 

**

Kurt is back in Lima long before he should be. For the worst of all reasons. Finn’s funeral and then again for the memorial at McKinley.

Everything is mostly a fog of what doesn’t even feel like grief. Everything is a fog. 

There are tracks of clarity through it. Most of them are the things Kurt knows he has to do. It’s his job to hold Rachel. She seems so tiny here, beyond pretence, beyond showmanship. She’s not calculating her next great move. She sings and she grieves. 

It’s his job to help Carole and his dad. He looks through clothes and great big shoes, through comics and computer games and twelve sets of drum sticks. He sits with Carole and they cry and sort everything into neat piles and boxes. 

None of them ever stop expecting that ungainly, unlikely hero of an idiot boy to lumber into the room. 

Finn would have been wonderful in this. He’d have offered to help again and again and then he’d have eaten all the stews and lasagnas that are piling up in their freezer. He’d have bounded in and reminded them all of life. All Kurt can do is death. 

He heats dinner for himself and Carole and his dad. 

For most of Kurt’s time at home, Blaine hovers at the edge of his field of vision. Kurt is briefly, blazingly angry. He’s angry at Blaine’s presence and his absence and most of all at his hesitation. Because Kurt doesn’t want anyone to touch him, not at all. But if things had been different he could have stumbled headlong into the refuge of Blaine’s body. He could have been restored, just a little, in Blaine’s soft eyes and tears. He could have held Blaine and let his heart slow. But instead Finn is dead and there’s nothing, just space and history and this shaky friendship between them. 

Before Kurt leaves, Blaine visits with Tina and Sam. They bring news of the school’s memorial to Finn and a gift from the glee kids for Carole and Burt. Blaine also brings Kurt a quilt made of scraps of gorgeous textured materials, green and gray and deep red. It’s exquisite. 

“It’s from the markets at Westerville,” Blaine says. “I wanted to give you something to hold,” His eyes are endless on Kurt’s, full of all the ways he’s known Kurt like no one ever has. 

Kurt acknowledges Blaine with his arms folded across himself. “Thank you,” he says and he truly does mean it. He lowers his eyes because he has to. He can’t cry now. 

When everything is done, his dad and Carole drive him to the airport and Kurt flies home to New York. He goes to Adam, who never met Finn. Who will never meet him. 

Adam says, “I’ve cooked your favorite, sweetheart.” It sounds tentative.

Kurt snaps, “I’m not your sweetheart.” He feels sick with loss. 

For a moment he considers walking out. Instead he relents and sits at Adam’s tiny folding table to eat. Later he takes Adam to bed, where there is a tiny slice of life and mindless pleasure and nothing that’s really complicated. Adam is separate from every single thing that Kurt has ever loved and lost. 

The next morning he refuses Adam’s offer of company and goes home alone, walking from the subway in the early light. He didn’t warn Santana he’d be back and Rachel is still with her dads. The loft is empty. 

Kurt unpacks his bags and puts everything neatly away. Then he takes Blaine’s quilt and sits in his dad’s chair in the corner of the main room. He sits and he breathes daylight and he runs the materials between his fingers, over and over and over and over and over.


	2. Chapter 2

(August 2013)

Blaine and Sam’s place is just fifteen minutes on two humid subway lines from Kurt’s.

Sam knocks at the door to Kurt’s apartment. Blaine stands behind him. He smooths his polo shirt into his three quarter pants and takes a steadying breath. The door slides open to Kurt. His smile is both nervous and welcoming. He’s dressed in shorts and a cream button-up with a tiny bunny rabbit pattern. It’s adorable.

“Hi. Come in. Come in,” he says. He takes Blaine’s plate of brownies with care. “Thank you.”

“They’re vegan,” Blaine offers. “And I brought vanilla bean tofutti to serve with them.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you. Rachel will be thrilled.” His eyes skim over Blaine’s outfit and catch on Blaine’s gaze. He turns away quickly to lead them inside. “You can put your bags on my bed,” he says over his shoulder.

Blaine hands his messenger bag to Sam. Sam takes it without comment, though he doesn’t know where Kurt’s bed is. But Blaine can’t go. The last time Blaine was in Kurt’s bed, he and Kurt were breaking up. He remembers the ceiling all too well, both of them lying awake on their backs, just a foot between them and nothing more to say.

He doesn’t want to know whether anything in the room has changed. 

In the loft the windows are open and the ceiling fan is whirring at top speed, trying to cool things down.

Kurt heads into the kitchen.

“Need any help?” Blaine asks.

“I’ve got it,” says Kurt. “Just make yourself at home.”

Mercedes and Santana are at the dining table already. Rachel is pouring drinks. She kisses Blaine’s cheek as she hands him a glass. There are beads of moisture on its surface. He takes a sip and looks around.

There’s a curved silver lamp Blaine recognizes, a star sculpture he doesn’t. A shelf holds books on theater and fashion that are Kurt’s and a pile of vintage issues of Vogue he and Kurt pored over together. Beside them is the smooth dark stone Kurt’s mother found at Winona Lake.

On the wall there’s a poster of Edith Head, chic and unreadable behind circular dark glasses. It’s surrounded by some of her most iconic work.

“Ooh. Edith Head. She was a genius,” says Blaine to the room.

“I know! That’s what I’ve been telling everyone,” calls Kurt from the kitchen. His voice tumbles on excitedly. “That one on the top left? Ingrid Bergman in _Notorious_.” He steps into the room gesturing with the spoon he has in one hand. “I’m loving that aesthetic right now. Oh and the _Roman Holiday_ one. And _The Lady Eve._ Each costume is so individual and so essential to the story. There’s a retrospective next year at Parsons. We should go.” He falters. “If you’d like.”

“I’d love to.”

Kurt looks directly at Blaine for an instant, then drops his gaze and heads back to the kitchen.

“Sit down, hobbit,” says Santana, “before you make us all hot and bothered.” She’s not being unkind, so he does.

Kurt finishes in the kitchen. Sam comes from the bedroom. Soon enough they’re all sitting and the table is full of food and noise. Kurt’s made gazpacho. Mercedes brought sourdough and salad. There’s wine and sparkling water and the glasses don’t match. It’s beautiful. Blaine’s heart aches with wanting it all.

Over dinner, conversation shifts between updates on friends from Lima and Westerville, painful and stumbling reminiscence of Finn and considering how far Tina has made it on her world tour.

“She deferred her start at Brown for a year,” says Blaine. “Last I heard she was in Thailand.” 

“She’s gonna keep going West,” says Sam. “So she’ll definitely end up here sometime.”

Santana groans. “That is such a cliche. I should’ve expected it. Lapsed goths are so predictable. Anyway, I hate it when people decide to find themselves. As though you’re not the same person wherever you are.”

“Well, I think it’s impressive,” says Rachel. “We’re young. This is the time to do things. You just can’t know when it’ll all be over. And she can learn more about her culture and heritage. She’ll bring that to the rest of her life.”

Santana rolls her eyes.

Kurt says, “I had a postcard from Hong Kong.” He waves a hand toward the fridge where it’s pinned with a glittery Times Square magnet that Kurt bought on his first trip to New York. “That kind of world trip’s never been on my bucket list. I want to see Europe - Paris, London, Milan, St Tropez. Just the essentials. But I’m happy for her.”

“I loved that bucket list.” Blaine beams at him.

Kurt smiles back, amused and familiar. Suddenly it’s like he’s the only one in the room. “It was completely embarrassing. I had to cross a few things off.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about it. You’ve always had vision, Kurt. I admire that.”

Kurt takes a breath as though he has something to say. Instead he bites his lip. Blaine can’t tear his eyes away.

“You did **not** cross Lautner off,” says Mercedes and the energy shifts. Kurt blinks. Blaine breathes. “That boy made a fine werewolf.”

Kurt turns to her “Well, we all move on,” he says. “But the thought of him in a dewy meadow will forever have a place in my heart.”

“You mean a place in your pants,” says Santana.

“It can be both,” says Kurt easily.

There’s a knock at the warehouse door.

“Oh,” says Kurt. He glances at Blaine and the ease is gone. His voice is a fraction too high. “That’ll be Adam. I’ll get it.”

Blaine wonders if everyone is actually looking at him or if it just feels like it. His back is to the door and he wills himself not to turn and stare until Kurt is back.

The man who returns with Kurt is nothing like the Adam that Blaine expected. But Kurt says,. “Adam, this is Sam. And this is Blaine. Guys, this is Adam.”

Adam smiles at them. “Lovely to meet you both,” he says holding out his hand to shake theirs in turn. There aren’t power games in his handshake. “Hello everyone.” He slips into a free chair by Kurt’s. “Rachel, I saw they put up the lists for the _Jesus Christ Superstar_ showcase. Congratulations are due.”

Rachel huffs impatiently. “I was _hoping_ for Mary Magdalene.”

“Of course you were,” says Adam. He seems comfortable with them all. It’s irritating. These are Blaine’s friends.

He tries not to think about how Kurt might have described him to Adam. Of course, Kurt might not have even mentioned Blaine at all.

Kurt has mentioned Adam to Blaine, though. He knows Adam is English, of course. Somehow that had translated to a pale man in a waistcoat and tweed, with perfectly polished shoes and probably a valet at home. Adam is not what he expected. But the jaunty cap and the hipster bracelets aren’t reassuring, really. Nor is his impressive build beneath his olive green t-shirt. He’s handsome. He’s also tall.

Blaine focuses on finishing his salad. He’s spent five months avoiding the thought of this man’s hands on Kurt’s skin. That was easier when he’d never seen him.

And then Kurt says something and Adam turns his head, his eyes resting on Kurt as though it’s a relief just to look. Blaine recognizes that expression. It feels like a reflection of the one he wore for years - fond and grateful and bemused and shell-shocked. 

When Kurt meets Adam’s gaze with a smile, Blaine feels like someone’s punched him in the stomach.

He hadn’t known he was holding on to hope. But he knows that no one Kurt looks at like that would ever let him go. No one’s stupid enough to give Kurt up. Except Blaine himself.

Conversation moves on around him. Blaine tries not to watch Adam and Kurt but then while Santana is showing Rachel how to climb from a car in a short skirt and Mercedes is laughing with Sam about the soundtrack she’s doing for a local movie, Adam touches Kurt’s forearm just for a second, “Did you get my message about Lyle’s show this Friday, babe?” he asks.

Kurt turns to him. “I did. And of course I’ll come. But really. It sounds like a remake of _Starlight Express_. Terrifying. Even without the roller skates.”

Adam says. “I’m not confident that taking off the wheels is an improvement.” When he laughs, Kurt laughs with him.

Blaine’s heart hurts. This is not a dream or something Kurt made up to make a point. It’s real. It’s Kurt with someone who is not Blaine. He can’t help but imagine them together. Kurt undressing. Kurt reaching for Adam. Adam whispering Kurt’s name against his smooth skin.

“I hear your place is gorgeous,” says Mercedes. Blaine turns to her, grateful for the interruption to his thoughts.

“Yes, the kitchen’s tiny but the living room is perfect. We’ll have to have everyone over.”

Sam says, “Blaine’s decorated and it looks like some rich old gentleman lives there. But with robots.”

“There’s even a tiny study nook off the bedroom. It’s perfect. And we’ve built this bookshelf to separate our beds so it’s almost like two rooms.”

“I added a secret drawer in it so we can pass things between us late at night,” says Sam. “Like condoms and gum and comics.”

Mercedes smiles at him and thankfully doesn’t ask. “Sounds amazing.”

Rachel speaks up across the table. “Kurt! You said you had news!”

“Oh,” says Kurt. He smiles brightly. “Yes. Yep. Professor Patella has asked me to take her musical theater intensive over Fall semester. 

Rachel gasps. Her hands fly to her face. “That is such an incredible honor! You’re only in your second semester. But then...” she narrows her eyes. “Don’t you have to work with a group for that class?”

“Yes,” says Kurt. “That’s kind of the point. And believe me I know how you feel about group work. But it would be worth it.” Kurt turns to explain to the rest of the table. “We pull together a short work from the ground up. There are a couple of people in the writing stream, some tech team. Musicians. Set designers. Everything.”

“That sounds amazing,” says Blaine. He’s excited for Kurt despite himself.

“It is,” answers Adam. “I did it last year. Incredible experience. A tad rushed, maybe, but incredible.” 

“Adam put in a good word for me with the professor,” Kurt says.

“I know what you’re capable of,” says Adam, and drops his head with a smile.

Rachel’s still talking about group work. “The trouble is, you can never trust that anyone else in the group’s going to be up to your standards. Even though this class is hand-picked, there’s always someone who isn’t worth the time. Though I’ll admit there are some talented people at NYADA.”

“Congratulations,” Blaine says quietly to Kurt when he can. “I’m so impressed. Not that I expected anything less.”

Kurt nods. His eyes are warm like maybe he understands what’s going on for Blaine. “I can’t wait to see what you do here,” he says before their conversation is swallowed in everyone else’s.

**

(September 2013)

History of American Theater is over for the morning and Kurt has almost two hours before he meets up with the group from the musical theater intensive. His head is caught up in concepts for a show as he heads to the Playhouse and joins the short line for coffee. It takes a moment before he realizes Blaine’s just ahead of him in line. He inhales slowly as he takes in Blaine’s dark hair curling at his neck, his broad shoulders and the sweet dip of his waist. He rolls his eyes at himself.

Since Blaine moved to New York, Kurt’s seen him at a couple of potlucks, at a show Mercedes’ friends put on to finish out the Summer, and most memorably when Rachel insisted on a picnic, complete with picnic baskets and checked rugs, which was disrupted by a flock of persistent seagulls. He’s pleased that he and Blaine can be in the same room without their whole history overflowing onto everyone. Kurt’s starting to think it’s possible. Maybe he and Blaine can do this thing.

The only reason Kurt’s heart is hammering is because they haven’t been alone together in so long. Still, it’s not as though he can ignore Blaine. And if they’re going to do this it might as well be on neutral ground.

“Hi,” Kurt says, touching Blaine’s arm carefully. “Blaine.”

Blaine swings about and his face breaks into a smile as though he can’t help it. “Kurt. Hi.” 

It’s simple nostalgia that makes Kurt’s stomach flip in the face of that gorgeous smile. “It’s so weird to see you here,” he says.

Blaine’s smile falters. “Good weird?”

“Of course.”

They reach the counter. Blaine tips his head toward Kurt. “Grande non-fat mocha?” he asks.

Kurt almost says yes on instinct but the barista says, “Kurt’ll have a large almond-milk latte.” Kurt’s mostly surprised the guy even recognizes him.

Blaine pauses. “That’s his order,” the barista explains. “And for you?”

“Oh. Yes, I’ll have a long black,” Blaine says. He waves Kurt’s wallet away and pays for both coffees.

“Do you have time to chat?” asks Kurt. Blaine doesn’t hesitate before nodding.

They sit at a tall table in one corner of the wood panelled room. Kurt hangs his bag on a hook under the table and crosses his legs. He’s sat across the table from Blaine’s soft eyes a hundred times before. Early on in New York Kurt sat in this very room, wishing Blaine was here.

“Your classes are all still going well?” he asks.

Blaine nods. “Most of them. I love my Acting for Musical Theater intro class. Though the dance classes are more difficult than I expected. Somehow at McKinley all our moves just fell together.”

“I know,” says Kurt. “It was sort of a shock to come here and find things need training and practice and months of rehearsal and not just the magic of Brittany and Mike.” 

“We were lucky,” says Blaine.

They sip their drinks and contemplate one another. Kurt wraps his hands around his cup.

“You changed your coffee order,” says Blaine.

Kurt smiles. He feels a bit wistful. “So did you.” There’s another pause. In the past he never needed to look for something to say with Blaine. “Oh. Mercedes tells me you're applying for a job?”

“There’s a bar in Brooklyn that’s hiring a piano man. Just once a week. I thought I might give it a shot.”

“They’ll want you,” says Kurt.

Blaine’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “Thank you, Kurt,” he says sincerely. “I really appreciate that from you. How are your classes going? How’s the theater intensive? Everyone says you’ll put together a great show.”

“I hardly have time for my other classes. But it’ll be worth it. I saw last year’s show, which was amazing. Just a small piece. But amazing. Though at the moment I’ve got no idea how we’re even going to get a concept together. It feels like a jumble of people and ideas. I- Do you have a moment to take a look at this?”

Blaine’s pleasure is written on his face. “Of course I do. I’d love to.”

Kurt reaches into his portfolio and pulls out the storyboard he’s put together. It’s a broadly sketched story of a leader of the industrial revolution. He’s beautiful and feminine and dressed as a ringmaster. It follows his success, the way the world changes and his only love, the indistinguishable automaton he woos. “I love him,” the ringmaster sings in one scene, “He is perfect, he was built just for me.”

“Oh, I really love this costuming,” Blaine says.

Kurt’s excited about the work he’s put in on that too. He showed Isabelle when he was at work earlier and she’s considering a photo spread. “Thank you. There’s so much ambiguity in the aesthetics of a ringmaster - in gender and role and sexuality. It’s easy to find inspiration there.”

Blaine nods enthusiastically. “And the storyline? I can’t tell if it’s a comedy or a love story or a political piece. But it’s beautiful.”

“I’m so glad you like it. I think it’s mostly comedy. But there’s something heartbreaking in a man believing in this love. It’s like he believes he’s owed it. And the automaton has no choice but to love back.”

“But it’s not real,” says Blaine. “They don’t even know one another.”

“You can love a person you don’t know,” says Kurt.

“Not really. Not love.” Blaine is so sincere.

Kurt has always appreciated how Blaine so quickly understands him. These days there’s some irritation caught up in the appreciation. But it’s not really irritation with Blaine.

“Yeah. That’s the tragedy, I guess.” He changes topic. “That and the possibility that other people in the class might bring their own ideas and not want to do this.” Kurt is horrified by the thought.

“Of course they’ll want to do this,” says Blaine. “Look at what you’ve brought together. It’s incredible.”

Kurt can’t help but grin at him. He feels buoyed by Blaine’s certainty. He glances at his watch. The time’s flown. “Oh god, if I’m not there in four minutes I won’t even have a say in the class at all.”

“Go! Go,” says Blaine, touching his arm seemingly without thought. Kurt looks at him quickly and Blaine pulls his hand away. But they smile fleetingly. 

“Tell me how the piano man audition goes,” says Kurt after a moment. He grabs his bag. “And thank you,” he adds. “For the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

Kurt walks to class feeling more confident than he has in weeks. He’ll worry later about where that’s coming from. For now he plans to embrace it and ensure that the class uses his ideas.

**

(October 2013)

The piano bar is just filling up when Blaine finishes playing at 9:30. He makes room at the piano for Star, a sixty year old pianist who does the karaoke shift after Blaine’s slot on Fridays. Star knows every song written between 1950 and 2012 except, apparently, _Candles_ by Hey Monday. Blaine asked last week.

Star shrugs at the overtly disinterested audience. “Don’t you mind about them,” she says to Blaine as she sits down at the piano. “You’ll come good.”

It’s his third shift and it wasn’t any better than the first or second. Sam came along to the first one where Blaine suffered through the indignity of the ten or so hipsters and some business people in suits all laughing loudly, yelling to friends across the bar and talking the whole time he performed. He felt uncomfortable in his bow-tie and belted pants. Not that anyone was looking anyway.

Star says, “Half of them are just here to sing I _Love Rock n Roll_ and B _orn in the USA o_ ver and over. Or that disastrous duet from _Grease_. My talents are astonishingly wasted.”

“You’re incredible, though,” says Blaine.

“I know,” she says. “Mostly because I’ve never strangled the idiot woman who always wants to sing ‘Bette Davis Eyes.’ She’s awful.” She doesn’t tell Blaine that he’s incredible. He’s certain that’s because he is not.

Blaine’s used to people listening when he performs. After the inauspicious first show he made Sam promise not to tell anyone that he has the job. He couldn’t stand for Kurt to see him fail at this on top of everything else.

He takes the subway to 14th Street and 8th Avenue and heads three blocks downtown. There’s no sign on the outside of the door to indicate that there’s a bar inside but he pushes it open. Santana assures them this is the only place to not be seen.

Kurt is across the bar, surrounded by their friends. He’s looking polished in black and blue, sitting back in a sofa that could kindly be called vintage. He has his legs crossed and is listening to Santana with narrowed eyes. Blaine wants to watch him, of course. Forever. Always. There’s something extraordinary about Kurt’s precisely contained limbs and lovely cheekbones. Blaine catches himself before he stares too long.

Adam’s sitting beside Kurt, listening to Santana with his head tilted dubiously. Blaine makes sure he smiles at all of them as he approaches.

“Back me up here,” says Sam as though Blaine didn’t just arrive. He pats the chair beside him and Blaine sits down, grateful for how easy Sam is with everything. “Santana thinks I need more manscaping.”

“Sam’s fine,” says Blaine. “He looks great.”

“Oh good. Well, now that we’ve got confirmation that you’re an expert on Sam’s personal crankshaft,” says Santana, “you can help me out. I don’t want him hairless, but I have my sources. I know he barely even trims down there.”

Kurt leans in, “Sam has long had the good fortune of fabulous friends to advise on his personal grooming. Leave him be, Santana.”

After ten minutes where the conversation largely floats by him, Blaine heads to the bar with a few drink orders. His fake ID is better now than it was at seventeen.

He feels Kurt’s approach while he waits for the bartender.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Kurt asks. He touches Blaine’s shoulder cautiously. The light reflects prettily from the bottles lined up behind the bar. Kurt looks so sympathetic, Blaine can’t help but want to tell him.

“It’s this gig I have at the piano bar.”

“So you got it?” Kurt prompts.

“I did.” Blaine sighs. “Friday nights, before the karaoke starts.”

Kurt tips his head and considers him. “And this isn’t good news.”

Kurt’s showing so much interest, all of it directed straight at Blaine. It’s giddying to be at the center of that. Blaine hurries to say the right thing. “Don’t get me wrong. I know I’m lucky to get money for doing what I love but. Oh, it’s silly.” The bartender has finished the order. Blaine pays her and reaches for two of the drinks.

“Tell me,” says Kurt. “I won’t think it’s silly.” His sincerity twists tightly in Blaine’s heart.

Blaine leaves the drinks on the bar. He sighs again. “The crowd there hates me.”

“Blaine-” Kurt protests.

“You wouldn’t even call it a crowd. It’s some people who’ve spent the day working on freelance projects in their living rooms or trapped in an office job. And they just want to have a drink with their friends and talk about Nietzche or anthropology or international stock exchanges or whatever. Whatever I play, I’m just an interruption. It feels like I’m putting all my energy out there to get one confused old guy to dance.”

“But he dances?” Kurt sounds sweetly hopeful.

“He only came along once. He danced the tango.”

“At least he had passion,” Kurt says.

“I was playing _Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay._ ”

“Oh dear.” Kurt’s face drops. Blaine giggles in spite of himself.

“It’s fine, really, it’s fine. It’s kind of a black hole but - I just think I might need to change my sound a bit, or my outfit. Make myself a bit more hipster and a lot less… Blaine.”

Kurt looks horrified. “That’s drastic.”

“I could do with a New York makeover,” says Blaine. “I feel ...out of place pretty much all the time.”

Kurt speaks slowly, “Okay. I mean, sure. Sure. I could give you some notes if you wanted. But I’d hate for you to be less than you are, Blaine.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You were born to be in New York, Kurt. You just were.” It feels a little unfair. Blaine knows how hard Kurt fought to present himself the way he wants to.

Kurt speaks even more carefully. “But Blaine, you have this style that’s all you. And it always- you always look great. And I know you sound great.”

Even to himself, Blaine sounds petulant when he says, “It’s tiring, putting myself out there in the music. And no one even listening. They just keep talking.”

Kurt looks at him for a long time. “Well, don’t be too tough on yourself,” he says. “Hey. We could arrange for some people to come. There’s all the McKinley people here and I have a couple of other friends. Mercedes has some friends. Sam can bring some models. There must be some Warblers living in New York.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Blaine is half terrified and half thrilled. He wants people to watch just slightly more than he wishes no one would. Especially not Kurt. Especially Kurt.

“I’d like to,” says Kurt. “I want to support you. Anyway it’ll be fun. You just wait. Everyone is going to love it. You didn’t lead two high quality show choirs for nothing. You’re an incredible performer.” Kurt laughs under his breath. “God knows I sometimes wish you weren’t so incredible.”

Blaine is puzzled. “What?”

“No, not. Not like I wish you any less than you are. I was just thinking about watching you perform. I wouldn’t-” Kurt takes a breath and shifts gears. “Here’s how it is, Blaine. This is New York. They’ve heard it all. You can’t give up on yourself because of a few performances where people don’t instantly adore you. It’s going to happen again. You’re wonderful, but it’s a big world. You need to get used to the fact that people won’t mindlessly tumble to worship at your feet from the first note.”

“That’s not what I want,” says Blaine. It stings a little, but he’s laughing too. “Not really.” Though he’s aware that losing it has left him a little adrift.

“It isn’t?” Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Well, damn. I guess it’s because I never had it, but that is definitely what I want.”

“Kurt Hummel, I know you better than that. It isn’t what you want, either. Not mindless worship. Anyway, what I want is something you have. Respect from people whose opinions matter.”

Kurt looks down at the bar. His cheeks are pink. “Then from the sounds of things you’re looking in the wrong place. No one whose opinion matters would sit there and talk through one of your performances.”

“Oh.” says Blaine. “Thank you.”

“So, you’re giving me the go-ahead to get a bunch of people there? I’ll only ask people who matter.”

“Yes. Absolutely,” Blaine says. “Thank you, Kurt.”

Kurt scoots past Blaine without quite touching him as they grab the drinks and head back to everyone at the table.

“Next week,” says Kurt to the group when they get there, “we’re all going to some bar in Brooklyn to watch Blaine perform. No excuses accepted.”

Rachel claps her hands and Sam and Mercedes cheer. Santana’s girlfriend, Dani, throws him rock’n’roll horns.

Blaine blushes happily. Maybe he’s been going about this independence thing the wrong way.

**

The piano bar is a long awkward space with a spacious back room and a distinctive baby grand. It’s the third week that they’ve come. When Kurt arrives from class he’s pleased to see the room half full. They seem to have got some momentum going. More even than the number of people, there’s a positive energy around. Everyone is all anticipation.

Blaine’s sitting with the others. He turns and his face lights to see Kurt. “Hey! I was worried you weren’t coming.”

Kurt feels a little defensive. “I’ve come every week,” he says. “Of course I’m here.”

Blaine’s eyes are still bright as he says. “I’m glad.”

Kurt regrets his shortness. He wrinkles his nose. “Sorry I was late, though,” he says. “I came straight from rehearsal.”

Things with the ringmaster show are not going smoothly. It feels like the whole thing will never come together. There are moments of excitement, scenes that are working, but mostly it feels like chaos. There was excitement at first but now it’s possible the whole team has bitten off far too much.

“Hey,” Kurt says more loudly as he sits between Elliot and Adam. Adam gives him a quick, slightly awkward kiss. “Rachel? Adam? Blaine? Any of you want to join the chorus for the show? NYADA students only,” he says to the others apologetically.

Adam laughs under his breath. “You know I’d love to after all the stories I’ve heard from you,” he says. “But with the Apples and the final show in Spring I’m flat out, love.”

Rachel shakes her head sadly. “Fanny,” she says succinctly.

“Blaine?” says Kurt. “At least come along once and see if you’re interested. It’s a good way to get into the class next year.”

“Great,” says Blaine amenably. “I'll do it. Every theater career starts in the chorus so I’d better get some practice.” He smiles at Kurt, so Kurt doesn’t mention that most people had a lot of practice being in the chorus in high school. Blaine looks at his watch. “Okay, I’m up.” He gestures to the stage.

“Don’t break anything I wouldn’t break,” says Dani. She’s taken a liking to Blaine.

The energy of the past few weeks seems to be seeping into Blaine. Kurt can tell that he’s bubbling with confidence as he bounds up to the stage. His short sleeved shirt pulls across his arms as he stands behind the piano and leans to mess around with some chords. He looks glorious and so certain in himself. Kurt is happy that he just gets to watch.

“Okay let’s start with something new,” Blaine says. “Well, old but new to some of you.” He starts to play and Kurt freezes for a moment, his lips at the rim of his wine glass.

Blaine starts singing.

_It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone._

Kurt flashes right back there to McKinley’s steps, laughing across at his boyfriend singing to him. Watching his boyfriend singing for the world to see and taking the whole school along for the ride.

Kurt blinks hard and takes a swig of his wine. He finishes the glass before Blaine finishes the song. He moves on to Adam’s beer.

This is okay, of course. This is okay. Blaine can sing anything he likes and it makes sense that he sings things he’s sung before. There was always going to be a time that he hit some of the songs with which he once serenaded Kurt.

When Blaine finishes Kurt exhales. But he recognizes the next chords too.

_I walked across an empty land._

Kurt focuses on the table, the light reflected from his glass. When he looks up Blaine’s eyes are on him. 

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone? I’m getting old and I need something to rely on._

Somehow Kurt can’t look away. The song rushes through him. It feels like it fills a cavity in his chest. Beside him Adam places a hand on Kurt’s leg.

“Okay, love?” he asks.

Kurt nods. He doesn’t know what he’d say if he spoke.

“Righto then.” Adam pauses for a second. “I think I’m heading to the bar. Want another glass of wine?”

“Yes please,” Kurt manages. He smiles at Adam. It’s convincing enough that Adam smiles back, before leaving Kurt to watch his ex-boyfriend sing.

Blaine has always had a way with the right song. Kurt hates it and loves it at once.

By the time Kurt has downed another glass of white, Blaine has played two more unrelatedly romantic songs. But when he starts to sing _Fuckin’ Perfect_ it’s just too much. 

_Pretty pretty please. Don’t you ever ever feel like you’re less than fuckin’ perfect._

Kurt is tipsy, and everything about this is horrible. 

_You are perfect to me._

“I need to go,” Kurt says into Adam’s ear.

Adam twists his head and considers him quietly. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he says. 

“Sorry,” says Kurt. Then whispers the same to the group before he stands to go.

Elliot leans to kiss him goodbye and looks back at the stage. Elliot’s there for the music. Santana rolls her eyes. “So wanky,” she mouths. Kurt’s not quite sure whether she thinks that’s a good thing. Rachel grimaces supportively.

Adam’s eyes are narrow. His arm is wrapped more closely than usual around Kurt as they leave. At the door to the front room Kurt turns back just as Blaine looks up. He meets Blaine’s eyes. Even in the low light across the room, Blaine looks heartbroken.

They’ve been playing at this thing, this friendship between them, as though it’s okay. As though it’s safe. But it’s not safe. Not one tiny bit.

**

By the time they get back to Kurt’s place, Kurt is a little closer to sober than he’d prefer. The girls will be out for a bit longer and he knows he doesn’t want to have any conversation that’s coming.

Adam takes a breath. “I have to ask,” he says. “I don’t know if I want to- But. Kurt, love, what was that about?”

“I’m sorry,” says Kurt.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I’m always happy to head home with you. I just wondered.”

“It’s been a long day,” says Kurt. “A long week. It all just hit me at once. It’s really nothing important. I’m tired and I’m stressed.” He hates these things that are less than half true.

“Okay,” says Adam. He’s not satisfied but there are things he won’t push. For now, Kurt knows and is grateful for that.

“I want to blow you,” he says to Adam. At least that’s true.

Adam gives a crooked little smile. “I am... not about to refuse that offer.”

“Well then,” Kurt gestures toward Adam’s lower half. Adam unbuttons his jeans and slides them down past his hips. His cock is hardening under his boxers. It pokes through the space in the fly as though beckoning Kurt.

Kurt pushes Adam back to sit on his bed and kneels between his thighs. He feels hazy with alcohol and a sort of generalized buzzing under his skin. He pulls Adam’s cock over the waistband of the boxers and takes it into his mouth,. He breathes steadily through his nose so he can take him in, controlling all his reflexes. He goes deeper than usual, faster than usual. Adam’s hips buck slightly on the bed.

“Hell, love,” he says around a helpless moan.

Kurt pulls back a little so he can smile around Adam’s cock. He puts his hands on Adam’s thighs and digs his fingers in, just a little. Adam pants. Then Kurt bends his head, bows into Adam’s lap takes Adam further inside his mouth, stretching his lips aroung the thickness. Everything is wet and hard and too much. Everything he breathes is familiar.

Kurt sucks harder, swallows around Adam’s cock. For a time it blocks his air passage. He manages a quick rough breath of air as he starts bobbing his head up and down over Adam’s lap. He can feel Adam’s thighs flexing under his fingers, working to hold himself in place but not quite managing. Adam’s cock thuds into his throat and Kurt stills. 

“Fucking hell,” says Adam. “Good god, Kurt.”

The saliva is pooling in his mouth and dripping onto Adam’s crotch. Kurt lets himself lose focus and just keeps moving. Adam’s breath is coming in sharp pants over Kurt’s head. It’s hotter than it has reason to be. Kurt forces another quick breath, wills Adam to come and he does, flooding Kurt’s mouth. Kurt sucks and licks over Adam’s cock as he pulls off, gasping a little.

Kurt looks up for a moment and Adam’s eyes reflect back at him. Then Kurt clambers up, lowers his pants and straddles Adam’s lap so Adam can jerk him off while they kiss, close and intimate. Adam knows just what Kurt likes. He wraps his hand around Kurt tightly and drags the orgasm from him. It shudders from Kurt’s cock down his limbs. He feels it crackling up his spine.

“God, Kurt,” breathes Adam into his mouth. “I love you. I love you.” It’s the most impossible thing to hear.

**

It’s ten in the morning when Blaine’s phone buzzes with a message from Kurt.

_We need to talk._

Blaine’s standing in his kitchen bleary-eyed, considering what food might work for breakfast after one too many beers. He stares at the screen before he types.

_Okay. Where?_

He saw Kurt leave with Adam last night. Everyone did. It wasn’t intended to be subtle. Mostly Blaine felt humiliated and maybe a little bit guilty. 

His phone buzzes.

_I’d prefer to do this privately. Prospect Park in half an hour. Do you know the benches near the ice rink?_

_I’ll see you then._

When Blaine arrives Kurt is already there, sitting in the pale light with two coffees on the bench beside him. Blaine gestures with the two coffees he’s carrying. Kurt closes his eyes for a moment.

Blaine sits on the bench beside Kurt and looks out. The wind is too cold for it to be truly pleasant sitting outside, but the view across the park is pretty. The tree trunks are heavy shadows against the gold and yellow leaves.

“I didn’t plan it, really, Kurt. They’re just the songs that have been on my mind,” he says. He expected to defend himself, but his words are an apology. 

Kurt sounds tired, more than anything. “What was next, were you going to sing _Teenage Dream_ and break my heart for the second time? Or _Come What_ Fucking _May_?”

Blaine’s wants to curl in on himself. He had almost forgotten what hurting Kurt felt like. None of his words seem right. “No, no. God. It wasn’t like that. I have to sing songs that I know and yeah. I should have thought. But you were there and the gig is going so well. People come to see me. And that’s all because of you and…” He knows he’s not being clear. He didn’t really think it through. And maybe there’s a way he did it on purpose. Maybe he just wanted to see whether he could still touch Kurt.

“People come to see you because of you,” says Kurt. “But god. You can’t just sing all of our songs at me.”

“I know,” says Blaine. He does know, now. But there have been so many times that music’s been a way back. In the moment, with the piano and the crowd backing him, he’d felt like the same boy Kurt had fallen in love with over song after song. It had seemed easy to just push a little more. But there’s nothing easy in this conversation.

“At least you could have given me a warning. Those songs. They were. They’re ruined.” Kurt’s voice is quiet. Blaine leans closer to catch his words as they dissipate into the wind. “You ruined all of them for me.”

Blaine’s chest is tight, like he’s going to cry. He knows what Kurt means. There are so many songs he can’t bear to hear. He should have known. “Okay. Yes. I’m sorry.”

Kurt says, “I need you to be crystal clear about this.” Blaine hates that crispness in Kurt’s voice.

“I am clear, Kurt. I said I was sorry. I’ve got it.” He exhales. “I didn’t know what you felt any more. I’m sorry, I should have known.”

Kurt’s head whips toward him. “Was it an experiment?”

Blaine feels wrong and wronged at once. “What? No of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

“It kind of felt like an experiment.” Kurt’s eyes are on him, clear and cool.

All the ways that it’s been an agony to watch Kurt and Adam together bubble to the surface. Blaine’s voice shakes. “So what then, you walking out with him. Was that some kind of punishment?”

Kurt’s eyes widen in disbelief. “It wasn’t a punishment, god, he’s my _boyfriend,_ Blaine. He’s the person I walk out with.”

“Well, sure. I couldn’t miss that,” says Blaine.

The breath huffs through Kurt’s nose. There are tears in his eyes, whether because of the wind or because of Blaine. “I don’t need to answer you about this. Play what you want.”

Blaine knows Kurt is right about the songs. They’re just songs but it will never be _just_ songs with them.

Blaine has never needed much encouragement to show his heart. Not in this way, when everything he wants to say feels so true and good. His eyes are on Kurt as he says, “The thing is, I’m still in love with you.”

Kurt’s fists clench in his lap. He bows his head. “Please. Don’t be.”

Blaine exhales slowly. “It’s not the kind of thing you can just stop, Kurt.”

“I am aware of that.” Kurt’s voice is low. He looks away across the park.

Blaine feels a flicker of hope. “Doesn’t it matter?”

Kurt turns to him. “We tried it, Blaine. We had everything and yes, of course, we were in love. But look where it got us. It didn’t protect us. In the end love did nothing at all. And I honestly couldn’t stand for you to let me down again.”

Blaine thinks, _you weren’t the only one who was let down._ He doesn’t say it, but it feels brave and new to even think it in the laser light of Kurt’s gaze.

They sit for a minute before Kurt says, “I have to go. I didn’t say how long I’d be but-” He makes a helpless gesture Blaine can’t quite decipher, then stands, looking down.

“I’ll see you soon,” says Blaine.

Kurt gives a twist of a smile as he turns to go. “No doubt,” he says.

Blaine watches his long strides until he’s out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

(October 2013)

There’s a line outside the Barracuda Lounge, but the bouncer takes one look at Sam in his tight white t-shirt and jeans and nods them both in.

Sam grins at Blaine. “Best gay wingman ever!” he says as they swing open the door and head into the noisy bar.

“Yeah you are,” says Blaine. He takes in the music, the lights, the bodies, the eyes raking over them both as they enter. This place is perfect. He has to do something different. Getting out and bringing Sam was a great plan.

But fifteen minutes later, leaning against the bar with a Corona, Blaine’s not so sure. Sam certainly attracts the gays. All of them. One is feeling Sam’s admittedly impressive bicep. Another is laughing at his impression of Sean Connery. A third has just bought Sam a drink. Something fruity. Blaine thinks about letting them all know Sam is about 95% straight. But Sam is having way too much fun for that. Blaine sighs. If he could just stop thinking he’s seeing Kurt in every slim brunette.

“Is that your boyfriend?” A guy leans against the bar beside Blaine and looks at him expectantly. He’s kind of hot. Tall, with black hair and nice arms.

Blaine’s startled. “Who?” They guy nods toward Sam. “Oh no. He’s my best friend. Sam. From high school.” Blaine rushes over the words a little. “Which was a really long time ago.”

The guy laughs. “Decades, I’ll bet. So that’s Sam.”

Blaine nods. “Yep.”

“I’m Jasper.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Blaine. He lifts his gaze to Jasper’s. “Sam’s a great guy. A model too. I can see why you’re interested.”

Jasper’s dark eyes crinkle attractively. “Sure. Who wouldn’t be? But I have to tell you there’s someone I’m more interested in.”

Blaine frowns a little. “Oh?”

“Any chance I can have a name?” When Blaine pauses he adds, “Your name.”

“Oh! Blaine.” Blaine smiles. Britney’s newest song plays, mashed together with some old school Hammer. It’s a good mix.

“Blaine,” says Jasper. “Well, Blaine, you are adorable. Would you like to dance?”

Blaine can only nod.

Out on the dance floor, Blaine forgets his nerves in the music and the throng of warm male bodies. After a while Jasper loops a finger in Blaine’s belt and pulls him closer. He presses his thigh between Blaine’s legs and keeps moving. Blaine grinds into him and Jasper groans deep in his chest. His eyes are still laughing as his hips rock against Blaine.

“Kid, you are gorgeous,” Jasper says.

“So are you.” Blaine is breathless and turned on. He hasn’t touched anyone in too long. Jasper leans down and Blaine stretches a little to kiss him. He makes this kiss as dirty as he knows how. Arches his back and laps into Jasper’s mouth.

“Delicious,” says Jasper as they break apart. “There’re things I would love to teach you. And you know, I think I could teach them even better with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

It’s a line, of course. But it’s a line meant for Blaine. Blaine freezes for a fraction of a second. But Jasper’s hand is hot at his waist, his eyes are kind and warm, and Blaine can feel the thick press of his cock against Blaine’s belly. He doesn’t look like anyone Blaine knows.

“Sure,” says Blaine. “Okay.” He swallows nervously but keeps the music rotating in his hips. “Yes.”

Jasper considers him for a moment. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Given a blow job? Yes. Yes, definitely.” Blaine nods trying to telegraph his enthusiasm.

“Well, I meant hooked up with someone in a club. But that’s a good start.” Jasper takes one of Blaine’s hands. “Follow me,” he says.

Blaine looks back at Sam who is dancing on a table and does.

They head upstairs to the third floor. “Better bathrooms up here,” Jasper says as he crowds into the stall behind Blaine and closes the door. He locks it without even looking.

“You’re good at that,” says Blaine.

Jasper leans back against the door of the stall and looks at Blaine through narrow, smiling eyes. “I have to tell you it’s not my first time.”

Blaine squeaks out a laugh. There’s something reassuring about a guy who’s fluent in all of this and still wants Blaine.

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are, Blaine?” His voice echoes against the tile.

Blaine hurries to reassure him. “I’m eighteen.”

Jasper looks him up and down appreciatively. “Eighteen.” He says it like it’s a good thing.

Blaine smiles and reaches for Jasper’s fly. His fingers shake a little. Jasper bats his hand away and deals with it himself. He puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and presses down persuasively. Blaine sinks to his knees.

“So, Blaine. Do you have a condom?” Jasper asks. And oh god. Blaine blushes at the enthusiasm that made him forget safety.

He scrambles in his pockets, made difficult while kneeling on the tiled floor, and finds the condom he grabbed before he headed out. He peels it open and rolls it onto Jasper’s cock. He wraps his fist about the shaft, then takes a breath and tentatively swirls his tongue about the cock’s tip. The smell of sweat and human and cock makes him greedy. He drops his jaw to take Jasper deeper.

Above him, Jasper sucks in a breath and his hips make little shallow thrusts into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine feels the buzz of making someone react, someone who knows his own body and has had men with so much more experience than Blaine has. 

Blaine releases Jasper’s cock from his fist and slides both hands up the back of Jasper’s furred thighs. He holds Jasper’s ass and pins him more tightly in place then traces the ridges and veins of Jasper’s cock with his tongue. He’s doing all the little things he practiced in every moment he had alone with Kurt. 

It’s not long before Jasper is grunting softly, thrusting forward against Blaine’s grip and losing himself in the feeling. Blaine slips his fingers between Jasper’s thighs and feels his balls tighten as he strokes them. When Jasper comes, with a sudden moan, Blaine closes his eyes briefly. There’s no guilt here, not this time, just the ache of his own need and the pleasure of someone shuddering to ecstasy inside his mouth.

“Holy hell, that was great,” Jasper says. He pants for a second, then carefully removes the condom. “Now stand up and I’ll take care of you.”

“I think I’m going to come as soon as you even touch me,” Blaine admits, somewhere between blushing and proud.

“I can work with that,” says Jasper. He fishes a condom out of his pocket. “Here, you’d better roll this on for yourself though.”

Blaine opens his pants and does so, trying to think unsexy thoughts. Then Jasper kisses him, keeping their hips as far apart as possible in the tiny stall. Blaine gives up and pushes forward to get the contact his body craves. Jasper laughingly shifts away. “Ready, are you, gorgeous?”

“God, yes,” says Blaine. “Please.”

Jasper reaches between them and wraps his big hand around Blaine. Blaine’s right. It only takes about three jerks before he’s coming, crying out in the echoing bathroom.

“Shh,” says Jasper, kissing him quiet. “Shhh.” He brushes his fingers through Blaine’s hair as Blaine buttons his fly. It feels as unlike any other time as Blaine imagines possible. But it still feels good.

“Thank you,” says Blaine.

Jasper’s eyes twinkle. “What a polite little thing you are. And you’re welcome. Any time at all.” He puts a hand into his pocket and hands Blaine two condoms. “And Blaine, if you go out remember to take more than one condom.” He kisses Blaine firmly on the lips. 

“Okay,” says Blaine as they break apart. The guy is so competent and good. Adult. Blaine shivers with the pleasure of being looked after, even in the stall of a bathroom with the music driving outside.

When Jasper leaves, Blaine takes a moment. He rests his head against the stall door. His body is shaken and satisfied. He doesn’t think much about anything else.

He unlocks the stall and goes to find Sam.

**

(November 2013)

It’s the first rehearsal with the chorus. Kurt is humming with nerves.

There are only a few weeks before they’ll put on this show. It doesn’t matter that the audience will largely be students and a couple of professors: this show has so much of Kurt in it, he needs it to be incredible. Fortunately, so does the rest of the cast and crew and things are coming together. He’d hate for anyone to have seen it even a week ago.

He doesn’t know whether Blaine will be there. The producer is in charge of casting the chorus and Kurt hasn’t seen Blaine him since leaving him at the park a week and a half ago.

When he spots Blaine across the rehearsal space he doesn’t even try to pin down the way his pulse skitters. It’s happiness and anxiety and layers of things Kurt refuses to name. He walks over.

“I’m really glad to see you here,” he says.

“Oh. Thank you,” Blaine says with the graciousness that Kurt has always loved in him.

“Of course that’s just because the show won’t work unless I have the very best,” Kurt says. “And I know how good you are.”

Blaine grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. It was one,” Kurt grins back. He’s relieved that things are easy between them again.

While Kurt rehearses a scene with the two other leads, he watches the dance rehearsal with one eye. Blaine has his usual focus and charisma, even when learning synchronized robot moves with eight other performers. As the session finishes the dance lead gives him a pat on the back. Blaine laughs with him, happily. Kurt pauses for a moment, watching. 

“That was your cue, Kurt,” says the director, Lu, from the front of house. “Let’s start from the beginning of that scene.”

“Sorry, I’m with you.” Kurt shifts his focus and Lu grins. For the rest of the rehearsal he keeps his mind on his own scene.

**

Kurt leans back into the leopard print couch at Mercedes’ place. 

“It is time for a fashion show,” he says happily.

“Definitely,” says Mercedes, turning on the stereo. Alicia Keys and Kendrick Lamar ring through the apartment. Kurt approves of her taste in catwalk music. “I should have trusted you about this vintage shopping scene in New York, Kurt.” She takes her bags and heads into the bedroom.

“You just need to pick the right neighborhoods and go at a change of season. And then take me along because I honed my skills over year after barren year in Ohio.”

Mercedes reappears, beaming beautifully in gold sequins. Kurt leans forward to inspect the material. “I can’t believe the condition of this one,” he says. “I’ll bring over the fabric glue and make sure these are all going to hold but, babe, you look incredible.”

She laughs and smooths the dress over her hips. “I know I do. Your turn now. I want to see those pants again.”

Kurt complies, pulling on the Paul Smith mountainscape pants in the bedroom. He pulls out an asymmetrical vest and tries that with them.

“The length is perfect,” he sighs happily as he steps out of the bedroom. He twirls and pouts ridiculously over his shoulder at Mercedes.

“Mmmmm,” she hums, looking him up and down appreciatively. “There are many things about those pants that are perfect.” She giggles as he wiggles his ass and tries to seduce her with his eyes.

The entry buzzer sounds.

Mercedes reaches above her head to press the button. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mercedes,” a voice crackles through the speaker. “We were just in the neighborhood and thought you might like visitors.”

“Sam,” Mercedes mouths to Kurt.

“We?” he mouths back.

She shrugs, smiles reassuringly. They both know exactly who it is. “Come on up, boys,” she says and presses the door release.

Sam steps in already talking. “You wouldn’t believe it. There’s a place opening up down the street,” he says. “Every kind of hot chocolate you can imagine. Chili and raspberry and marmalade. They even have one with gold dust in it. And there’s chocolate coated cheerios.” He looks at Mercedes then stops and whistles under his breath. “Mercedes…” he looks to Blaine then Kurt as if to check that what he’s seeing is no hallucination. “Sequins,” he finishes. “Gold sequins.”

Mercedes’ laugh is bright. “Kurt and I went shopping. His skill at glam on a budget cannot be overstated.”

“Well... thank you, Kurt,” says Sam slowly and Mercedes laughs again.

“Did you want to head down and try it out?” she asks sweetly. “The hot chocolate place? We wouldn’t mind. We’ve been talking about getting coffee.” She looks to Kurt and Kurt finds himself nodding in agreement.

“That is _exactly_ what we were thinking,” says Sam. He’s obviously thrilled.

“Well if you three just wait a minute, I’ll change into something less dazzling.”

“Good idea,” says Blaine. “Sorry to interrupt your shopping date,” he adds when she’s closed the bedroom door. Sam’s looking at her shelving with interest. “If we’d known you were together we wouldn’t have burst in unannounced.”

“It’s fine,” says Kurt. “We were just showing off our finds from the day.”

“Nice. I love the pants,” says Blaine. His eyes sweep Kurt quickly and Kurt’s skin feels suddenly warm. But Blaine still sounds relaxed as he says, “They’re Paul Smith?”

Kurt nods. The pants are so good he can’t help but grin. “And I found some Burberry flannel pants too. Can you believe it? I hardly even need to make any alterations.”

“And the vest. That’s new too?”

“It is. I thought it was Public School at first but it just takes some inspiration from 2011s Fall line.”

“Still. I like the cut. It looks amazing on you.”

Kurt blushes. How could he not with Blaine’s eyes on him? “Thank you.” He’s mostly relieved when Mercedes comes out of the bedroom and he can head in to change.

They spend an hour in the warm interior of the hot chocolate bar.

Kurt’s looking at the menu above the counter and contemplating a second toasted almond hot chocolate when he catches a guy staring overtly in their direction.

From behind Kurt, Sam says, “Blaine, dude, that guy is so checking you out.”

“He is not,” says Blaine. Kurt looks at him quickly. Blaine’s blushing.

“He is,” says Sam. He tips his head toward the guy and mouths, “Go talk to him.”

Blaine shakes his head. “Not now.”

And oh. It occurs to Kurt that he hasn’t really considered what Blaine’s doing- socially. The possibilities sit heavily in his stomach. He keeps his tone light and tries not to look at Blaine when he says, “Leave him be, Sam.”

Sam glances between them. “Okay, okay,” he says.

“Hey, did you guys know that Jennifer Hudson has a show coming up at the ---,” Mercedes says, changing the subject. Kurt loves her even more than usual.

“Are you guys hungry?” says Sam a bit later.

“I could eat,” says Mercedes. “I could definitely eat. Oh I know. We should check out the burger joint on the corner. They have this blues guy. You’d love him. _”_ She’s looking at Sam.

Kurt can see where this is going.

“Well, I’d love to join you but I need to head home,” he says. “I haven’t even chosen my monologue for tomorrow’s Shakespeare class.”

Blaine heads out too. Everyone’s aware there’s unfinished business between Sam and Mercedes.

Under the bare trees, the street is dark but it isn’t quiet. People spill from cafes and bars, talking and smoking and trying to decide where to go to eat. It’s nothing like Lima. But there’s something agonizingly familiar in walking with Blaine. Kurt’s so close to the things he once hoped for.

“You know,” Kurt says, because if anyone understands, it’s Blaine. “This is how I imagined our life here.”

Blaine stops in place. “What?” Two women swerve to avoid him. He turns quickly and apologizes to their backs. “What do you mean?” he asks as they move on toward the subway.

“I imagined us walking back from wherever, from a friend’s place or a date, talking and holding hands. Heading home together. When I got here last Fall, New York was everything I wanted. The only thing missing was you in it.” Blaine keeps walking but he looks like he’s been struck. Kurt knows how he feels. “Sorry,” Kurt says. He regrets speaking. “It’s not the time.”

Blaine looks him in the eye. “I don’t know, Kurt. Maybe it is?”

They find a wine bar three doors down. The walls are decorated with red-lit antlers and horns Kurt assumes are fake. Blaine would hate for them to be otherwise.

At the bar, Kurt orders two glasses of a red he’s never tried. They squeeze through the milling people and find a tiny round table in the back. The lights are low. Somehow it’s easier to talk in the almost dark, surrounded by a weekend crowd of people they’ll never know.

Kurt says, “I guess I got here and everything seemed perfect. I mean, I didn’t have my spot at NYADA. Not yet. But I had the whole of New York and I had friends and theater and cafes and the world’s best vintage shops. I had Isabelle too at Vogue. And I had you.” He meets Blaine’s eyes for a flickering instant. “I had this perfect boyfriend at home, just waiting to join me and begin our life here together.”

“Kurt-” says Blaine, like he can’t help it.

“It was New York. Everything I’d dreamed. I felt like I'd already taken over the world.”

“I am so sorry.”

Kurt keeps speaking. “But then you came to visit and you’d - you’d done this awful thing. I was so hurt and angry but maybe more than that I was just so _embarrassed_ that I’d let myself believe in something. That I’d let myself be hurt. Because of course- _of course_ it couldn’t last. You couldn’t still want me. I was an idiot. I felt like everything was a lie.”

Blaine’s voice is rough. “It wasn’t.”

Kurt nods, blinks back tears. “No. I know. I do know.”

Blaine closes his eyes for a moment. Despite everything, it hurts Kurt to see him in pain. There’s a coaster on the table. Kurt folds a neat corner, tears along the fold line.

Blaine says, “I want to explain. Because. There’s a bit I feel like you don’t know. This isn’t about excusing what I did. But I need you to hear how things were for me.”

Kurt’s stomach turns. He resists covering his ears with his hands. Instead he tears another neat corner from the coaster. Because Blaine _cheated_ on him. Blaine broke all the beautiful things they had. But he’s aware he hasn’t heard Blaine’s side of things. 

He forces himself to nod.

Blaine says, “I was so proud of you, moving out here. You were my gorgeous, brave boyfriend and you were going to achieve everything. All- _All_ I wanted was to be here with you.” Kurt bites his lip hard as Blaine goes on. “But then suddenly you were gone. Not just in the obvious way, but you were gone from our phone calls and our skype dates. Even when we were talking. You told me about this life which I could hardly imagine. But you didn’t even hear anything I was saying. We’d always listened to one another. I wanted it back so much.”

Kurt remembers those early days in New York. When everything was gleaming new and just within his reach. He doesn’t remember what Blaine was doing at all. He swallows hard. “Okay.” He nods and waits for more.

Blaine looks grateful. Which hurts too. “And the worst thing was, I couldn’t tell you how I felt. Part of it, of course, was that I didn’t want to face the possibility that all the things we’d promised one another weren’t strong enough to last just a few weeks apart. I hated that.But part of it, Kurt. Part of it was just that I couldn’t get you to stop and notice me.”

He looks so earnest. Kurt hates this. “But you should have-”

Blaine interrupts and there’s fire there. “Don’t tell me what I should have. I know I should have pushed it. With you. Or talked to someone else. And yeah, there were days when I wanted to peel myself open and show everyone the inside. I felt so lonely and no one could see. But,” Blaine winces a little. “Look, it was you and me. We were meant to be perfect. I’m sure it seems stupid to you, but I couldn’t stand for people to see how bad things were. And anyway, I kept hoping I was making it up in my head. Saying it would make it real.”

It’s been a long time since Kurt felt that their break-up was Blaine’s fault alone, but hearing about it still it stings. He hates that he had any part to play. Still he nods slowly. He lets it sink in.

“I’m so sorry, Blaine,” he says. He’s never said it before.

Blaine’s eyes are wet. “I’m sorry too.” He sniffs. “It was all so clear to me. In my heart I knew you’d already moved on. I wasn’t enough any more. I’d tried to be so good for you and it was never enough.”

“But that’s not true,” says Kurt. “It was never true.” He wills Blaine to stop. But Blaine’s jaw is set and his words run on.

“I wanted to feel special again. I wanted someone to notice me. God, Kurt, I knew I was doing something awful and it would tear us apart. But I was certain I was already powerless to make it better. So what could I do but rip it apart. Before you did.”

“I wasn’t going to, Blaine.” The words burst from Kurt. “I wasn’t going to.”

Blaine nods. “I’m so sorry,” he says again.

The tears sting Kurt’s eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

Blaine says, “I need you to know that being with someone. Me being with that guy.”

“Eli,” says Kurt. 

“Eli.” Blaine echoes. He exhales shakily. “It never meant anything to my heart.”

Kurt looks at the table top. His coaster is in pieces. He says, “I know that. I know that’s possible. But whatever happened - your hands, your lips.” He feels it heavy in his stomach. “Whatever. It was with him instead of me. And that meant something to my heart.”

They sit in silence while one of the bartenders takes their glasses. 

Blaine says, “You know they offered me the part of Danny in _Grease_. When we put it on at McKinley.”

“Of course they did,” says Kurt. It’s not bitter anymore.

“I couldn’t take it. I had no right to play someone in a love story after what I’d done.”

Kurt feels like laughing but it turns into an ugly sob. Blaine reaches forward instinctively.

“Don’t touch me,” Kurt says. If he lets Blaine touch him he’s not sure how he’ll ever walk away. “Please, Blaine.” Blaine drops his hand to the table.

Kurt wipes his eyes with his hands. He feels like he’s been hollowed out. But he doesn’t leave.

Over the speakers the song shifts. “I love this song,” says Blaine. Kurt cocks his head toward the speakers and listens. It’s an old Sinatra tune.

“Me too,” Kurt says. After a minute he adds, “Are we having another drink?”

“I haven’t eaten,” says Blaine. “I’d better not.”

“Okay.”

“But I’m so glad we talked. Maybe, I don’t know, we could have dinner? There’s a Japanese dumpling place another half a block down.”

Kurt can’t tell if this is a sensible idea. But he feels lighter than he has in a long time. Plus he spent hours of the day walking to find vintage shops with Mercedes and he’s hungry. “That sounds good.”

**

Blaine’s almost ten minutes late for the last chorus rehearsal for Kurt’s show. He hates being late for anything, but his Stagecraft I professor held the whole class up talking about blocking and there was a throng of third years causing a traffic jam in the hall near the bulletin board.

Blaine has his bag and a couple of textbooks with him in case he needs them. He’s been sitting in on the rehearsals after the chorus is finished, watching Kurt and the other leads build something gripping out of not very much. Sometimes he helps with cues or provides an extra pair of eyes for the director. Other times he gives the lighting tech a hand or just does his homework in the back. He’s learning a lot about pulling a show together. And truth is he loves watching Kurt and the others. 

The show is going to be daring and strange and wonderful. Not perfect, maybe, but Blaine’s starting to believe there are things that are better than perfect.

After rehearsal, he and Kurt have taken to heading for the subway together. They spend the ride chatting about Sam’s latest job or Rachel’s route to stardom, about their classes and worries and changing goals, about the pressures of studying with so many talented and ambitious people. The time rushes by until Kurt changes for the L at 14th Street.

As Blaine reaches the rehearsal room door the dance lead, Henry, is stepping outside. He’s pulling his shirt on over his head, covering his very nice abs.

“Sorry I’m so late,” says Blaine. Then he frowns, puzzled. Henry’s supposed to be running the dance rehearsal today. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

“I wouldn’t go in there,” Henry says darkly. “It’s not looking good.”

Blaine’s heart thuds. “Why?” he asks. “What happened?”

Henry shrugs. “There was a car accident. One of the leads is in intensive care. The rest of us are kind of freaking. At least you don’t need to worry. You’re not in the class.”

Blaine doesn’t respond. He doesn’t breathe either as he pushes through the door. He scans the room quickly.

It’s ridiculous that he’s relieved to see Kurt. After all, Kurt doesn’t even have a car.

“This is a disaster.” Kurt’s voice carries.

“Honestly, I don’t see what we can do without Bryson,” says Becca, who plays the antagonist. “He’s critical to the show. And it’s not like we have an understudy. Why would we? No one has ever dropped out of this class.”

“Is Bryson okay?” asks Blaine, interrupting them. Bryson was playing Kurt’s love interest - a large man playing an automaton.

Kurt turns, his gaze quick on Blaine. Becca rolls her eyes. “Yeah. He’s just an idiot,” she says. “He’s ruined the show and cost us our grades. After so much work. It’s unfair.” 

“He’s fine,” says Lu, the director. “He’s broken some bones though. It was an accident.” At least she looks a little sympathetic.

From beside her, Kurt is still looking at Blaine. He narrows his eyes consideringly. There’s a long pause. Blaine wonders what’s coming.

“Blaine could do the role,” Kurt says. He sounds defeated, somehow. It takes Blaine a moment to work out why.

“He could?” says Lu with interest.

“Trust me,” says Kurt. “He’s been to the rehearsals. He was helping Bryson with some line readings. He knows the role.”

“But can you sing?” Lu asks, eyes on Blaine.

“He’s a musical theater major, Lu. He can sing,” says Kurt. “Trust me, he’d be sort of perfect.” His lips are pressed together.

There’s a contained excitement in Lu when she turns to Blaine.

“I bet we could get you extra credit,” she says. “But I know it’s a big ask.”

Whatever she says, she doesn’t know what she’s asking, not really. But Kurt does. Blaine meets his eyes before answering.

“I guess- if…”

“There’s no one else,” says Kurt gently.

“You want me to do this.”

“I couldn’t stand to lose the show,” says Kurt. “We’ve put so much into it.”

He’s right, of course. And Blaine can do it. He knows the role. He knows most of the lines, has the songs ready in his head. He’ll have to put in some practice of course, but the role is easily within his capabilities. There’s only one issue. After taking so much care with one another, he’ll be playing Kurt’s love interest.

“Okay,” he says, feeling resigned. He’s matching Kurt’s tone. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“It’ll be fine,” says Kurt. Lu exhales loudly as she high fives Kurt and Becca springs toward Blaine to hug him.

Kurt and Blaine make eye contact over Becca’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright,” Kurt says again.

Blaine’s not sure that this will be fine. He knows he can do the role. He and Kurt will work well together. They always did and they’ve regained their ease with one another over the past few weeks.

But even with this ease between them, they’re careful not to touch. They keep a space between them, always. Blaine notices it in every moment he spends with Kurt. 

And this role requires them to kiss.

“It’s acting,” says Kurt because he knows exactly what Blaine is thinking. “Just acting.”

Blaine nods. He knows it’s acting. And they’re professionals, almost. But he hasn’t kissed Kurt since he came to visit more than a year ago. He hasn’t even let himself think about it for months. Not during daylight hours at least. This is not something he’d have chosen. 

“So. Should we start today?” Blaine asks, not knowing what he wants the answer to be.

Kurt tips his head. “I think- We could do a run through. Work out where we need more practice. Unless you have to go, of course.” As though he hasn’t noticed that Blaine’s been staying after every rehearsal save Friday’s, when he has his piano man gig.

“No,” says Blaine. “I can stay. I’m good.” If the women notice the awkwardness between them, they don’t mention it. He wonders if they’re aware of their history.

They run over the scenes that include Blaine’s character. He plays direct, earnest, automaton. He plays worshipful creation. The words and actions flow naturally, the role is working. He puts his whole body into it. It feels good.

When they reach the kissing scene. Blaine half expects Kurt to bow out with an apologetic, “we’ll do this next time.” He should have known better. Kurt has never been one to delay difficult things.

So Blaine looks up, putting all the automaton’s simple, adoring heart into his eyes. Kurt breathes unsteadily. As the ringmaster he reaches for his love with both hands.

They bend into the kiss, moving together. Their lips meet. It’s nothing like kissing Kurt. Nothing at all. But still, Kurt’s breath, Kurt’s skin, Kurt’s mouth. Every part of this man is etched deeply inside Blaine. He tries not to let his heart beat faster. It might feel nothing like kissing Kurt, but that’s exactly what it is.

They break away quickly, probably too quickly. Blaine makes the automaton startled, electrified by the contact. Kurt’s ringmaster looks dazed.

“Astounding,” he says. Which is his line. His eyes are on Blaine’s.

Blaine blinks slowly. He briefly forgets the automaton’s answer. Lu prompts the line from the front of house.

“Sorry!” Blaine shakes himself out of his haze and smiles his thanks. They don’t discuss it, just move onto the next scene.

**

(December 2013)

Everyone comes to the performance. Rachel. Mercedes. Sam. Santana and Dani. Elliot. Adam, of course.

The show runs smoothly, better than even Kurt expected. The tech and costuming are perfect. The musicians hit all their cues. Everyone has rehearsed and rehearsed until the music and movement and roles are second nature.

The showstopping moments include Kurt and Blaine.

Kurt can’t deny the energy between them. It’s not just in the way their voices blend after so many romantic duets. It’s that they know without thinking, exactly when the other is going to speak, exactly where the other is on stage. When Kurt looks up he meets Blaine’s eyes unerringly. Blaine looks amazed and adoring. It feels frighteningly real. Kurt sees it and loves it and uses it to deepen his performance.

It’s better than any of the rehearsals. Better and brighter and more. When they kiss, the automaton melts into the ringmaster. Blaine’s acting is impeccable and Kurt responds, letting Blaine lean against his arm and deepening the kiss. It’s just right for the scene. It sings through Kurt’s veins.

As the show finishes everyone stands to cheer. The cast bows. They call the crew on stage and bow again. Kurt can’t stop beaming.

But underneath the surface of the show, beneath their professionalism, Kurt’s mind is spinning. He kissed Blaine with all the world watching. Fell into him and kissed him with the whole of himself. There’s a tiny part of his soul that has exploded into millions of floating fragments. He was in a role, performing for some important NYADA people. He’s proud of his performance. But a long-hidden part of his heart is caught on one thing. Blaine.

**

After the performance there’s a party at Revolution Bar. As Kurt arrives through the round doorway Santana appears at his side with two drinks. The floor is chequered with crazy tiles.

“Black cherry cosmopolitan,” she says handing him one. “They’re delicious. And they insist on calling them “Pop your cherry”. She takes a sip through the striped straw. “So, Kurt, you were great up there. Even I wiped away a tear. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Santana,” says Kurt. She can’t surprise him with kindness these days.

“I say it like I see it. I have to think that whole romance thing was hard for the Limey to watch, though,” she says. She looks at Kurt speculatively.

Kurt sighs. This is not a conversation he’s ready to have here. “It’s fine, Santana. Adam’s fine. He knows that there were no other options. Anyway, Blaine and I are friends.” He tries to make his glare firm but it doesn’t stop her from going on.

“That is a lot of chemistry for a friendship. You were eye fucking one another every second you weren’t locked in a steamy embrace. I wished I’d brought a fan. Or a hose.” She waves a hand in front of her face.

Kurt stands his ground. “Santana, it’s called acting.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She looks smug like a cat.

Kurt rolls his eyes and repeats himself. “We were acting.”

A hand rests on his shoulder. He recognises the fingers before Adam speaks. “I trust him, Santana,” he says. “Everything’s a-okay. Hunky dory.” He turns to Kurt. There’s a little shrug to his voice. Adam’s handsome and kind and fun. He’s been so good to Kurt. “I trust you.”

“You can,” says Kurt. Kurt’s not quite sure what Adam means by trust but he thinks this counts. He knows the lines he won’t cross.

He spends the rest of the after party close to Adam. When he’s not pressed into Adam’s side, they’re orbiting one another in the same conversations. He tries not to notice Blaine.

“Kurt’s amazing, isn’t he?” says Adam for the second time. This time he’s talking with Tyrone, another British senior everyone knows is going on to great things as a musical director on Broadway or the West End.

“You have to stop,” says Kurt. “I can feel my head swelling and I can’t afford a new hat collection.” He smiles and Adam squeezes his hand.

“Your voice is unique,” Tyrone says. “I reckon there’s more to you than that though. We should chat over a drink.”

“That would be wonderful,” says Kurt.

Across the bar, Blaine is surrounded by some of the cast. He’s holding a beer, talking and laughing. His teeth are bright in the blacklight. He glances over and his eyes meet Kurt’s. Kurt feels it all the way across the room.

Then one of the dance guys slips a hand about Blaine’s waist. It’s the move of someone certain of their welcome. Blaine leans into it. Kurt’s heart falters.

“All right then, love, it’s time,” says Adam.

“Time for?” Kurt says, distracted. He looks at Adam and frowns.

Adam’s laughing at him, though there’s caution under the surface. “They don’t call this bar Revolution because they want anyone to change the world. There’s a dance dance revolution room upstairs. And you might think you know me but I have my secrets.”

“He rather fancies himself,” says Tyrone.

Adam preens a little. “You’d better believe it, baby.”

Blaine and the guy have moved apart from the others. They’re not touching but they are clearly right in one another’s space. Blaine’s looking up at the dance guy. His name’s Henry, Kurt remembers. They move closer together. Blaine’s bright check bowtie is loose around his neck.

Adam says, “I am an undefeated virtuoso in the art of dance dance revolution.”

“Of course you are,” Kurt replies to Adam and tries to make it light.

“So, Kurt Hummel, my very talented boyfriend. Are you ready to have your world rocked?” Adam says.

Kurt nods. “Sure. Yes.” He feels a little like he’s suffocating. Henry leans in to speak into Blaine’s ear. Blaine nods. Then Blaine finishes his drink and follows close behind Henry. They head to the door. As Blaine lifts his head to look across at Kurt, Kurt quickly looks at the floor.

“I’ll leave you chaps to it,” Tyrone is saying.

Adam takes Kurt’s hand and Kurt allows himself to be lead upstairs. After Adam’s beaten him twice Kurt bows out. There are other NYADA students ready to take his place.

“We’ll head back to mine?” says Adam. It’s not usually a question.

“Oh. No. Not tonight,” Kurt says. He smiles to take the sting out. “I’m exhausted and I have to go into Vogue tomorrow. I’m going to kidnap Santana and Rachel and make them take me home.”

Adam nods slowly. “Right then. I imagine I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Definitely,” says Kurt. He lingers a little over the kiss then heads downstairs to find the girls.

**

Rachel and Santana have enough to say about the show that the trip home goes quickly. Kurt appreciates their obvious enthusiasm for something he put so much work into. Still, there’s a tightness in his chest.

When they arrive at the loft, Rachel calls dibs on the bathroom.

“It can’t be fun for Blaine, either,” says Santana after Rachel closes herself away. “He’s been watching you and that Downton boyfriend of yours head home together for months.”

Kurt nods. “I’m not jealous, Santana.”

She considers him. “That’s certainly what it looks like.”

“How could I be?” Kurt asks. “Like you say, I’ve been with Adam. And I- I’ve made it clear to Blaine that whatever our history we don’t have a future. I gave up on that a long time ago.”

“It’s not your history I’m worried about, sugar pop. It’s your present. And the fact that you want to fuck him into the mattress. In the present. But I hate to tell you, Kurt, someone else is doing that right now. And it is eating you up.”

Kurt doesn’t bother to deny it. “Henry,” he says. “The dance lead. That’s the guy.”

“Dancers,” says Santana. “Complicated.” And Kurt meets her eyes with empathy.

He inhales. “It doesn’t change anything, though, does it?”

Santana shrugs at him as Rachel comes out of the bathroom. “I don’t do advice,” she says. “Just observation. And it’s my turn in the bathroom. You take forever.”

Kurt takes his time over his night-time ritual. He cleanses and moisturises and plucks a stray hair from between his brows. Still, when he settles into bed he feels like he’s never going to sleep. He lies on his back under the comforter’s heavy warmth.

He slides his right hand into his pajama pants and wraps his fist around his cock. He strokes slowly, and his cock swells at the attention. He doesn’t want to think of Blaine, of whatever Blaine is doing with Henry. He can’t think of Adam. Not tonight. With his left hand he reaches for the lube in the bedside drawer and squeezes a little onto his cock and fingers.

He fists his cock again as it thickens and hardens under his soft skin. The lube makes everything easy. He finds a rhythm and arches his back against his own bed, lets his body relax into pleasure and enjoy his touch.

He bends both knees, tenting the comforter. He dips his left hand between his legs and presses a cool, lubed finger against his hole. It’s slightly awkward but his hips rotate irresistibly at the pressure. He exhales and pushes an inch inside. The fullness is distracting and wonderful. He bites down on the comforter to keep himself silent as he strokes himself faster and harder.

When he comes, he closes his eyes to the dark room. The pleasure shakes him and spreads under his skin, white and clean through his limbs. He lays still for a moment, stretching his shoulders and spine and letting the tremors dissipate. He’s not thinking about anyone’s lips on his neck, anyone’s arms wrapped around him. He reaches to the bedside table for a wipe and cleans himself up.

He falls asleep gratefully, focused on his body, paying no attention to his mind and anyone who might be in it.

**

Adam is perceptive, especially when it comes to Kurt. When he opens the door to his studio he already looks wary.

“Can I come in?” says Kurt. He’s never asked before.

Adam raises his eyebrows. “This isn’t going to be good,” he says, but he opens the door.

Kurt steps past. He scans the room, taking everything in. It’s almost midday. Through the window the sun is winter clear against the bare trees. The street outside is slowly waking up. There’s half a cup of tea on the kitchen bench.

Adam looks tall and rumpled in grey yoga pants and a soft t-shirt. His feet are bare. He runs a hand through his hair. Everything about him is familiar. But Kurt’s never done anything like this before. He doesn’t have any idea what to say.

“Can we sit down?” he tries.

Adam sighs. His mouth twists with something like resignation as he sits on a dining chair. When Kurt takes the other chair Adam shifts back a little, moving away from Kurt. It makes sense, but it hurts.

“Full disclosure,” says Adam. “I stayed out fairly late last night. Some of that was just enjoying myself. But some of that was about you.” He glances at Kurt. “I didn’t exactly want to come home.”

Kurt steels himself. There’s not much point in trying to soften this conversation. The words seem bloodless, though, when he says, “I think we need to break up.”

Adam fixes him with his eyes for a long moment. They are deep blue. “I don’t have a clue what _you_ need, Kurt. But I’m pretty sure _we_ don’t need anything of the sort.” His voice is harder than it’s ever been.

Kurt searches his brain for something to say.

Adam lets his hand fall heavy to the table and exhales roughly. The noise is unnaturally loud in the studio. “Right,” he says. He closes his eyes briefly.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt starts. He keeps his voice low and his body still.

Adam stands suddenly and moves to the window in two strides. He twists to face Kurt. “Right. Fuck. Look at you. Seriously, Kurt, do you even care?”

“Of course I care-” Kurt’s eyes sting. He forces himself not to look away. Everything seemed so clear in his bed at home, walking across Brooklyn. But sitting at Adam’s table, it’s different. They’ve been together for almost a year and being in love or not in love isn’t as sharp a line as he once thought.

Adam takes a breath. When he goes on he has control of his voice. “I know that nothing I say is going to matter. But Kurt. You have to know that this is a mistake. I could have made you happy. I thought I did.”

He looks up and blinks back tears. It hurts to see it. Kurt says, “You did.” He presses his lips together. “I’m so sorry, Adam. You did.”

“I knew,” says Adam. The words are tight with emotion. He’s not really looking at Kurt. “From the start I knew you were a mistake. I should have stayed away. But you’re so-” he falters for a moment. “You’re young and. I _hate_ that I spent so much time hoping - that you'd stay, that you’d let me closer, let me in. But the truth is I didn’t make this up. It wasn’t just me, Kurt. You gave me every reason to believe in this thing. And I thought you were over him, or at least. I thought you loved me.”

Anything Kurt says is going to make this worse.

Adam steps closer. “I hate this. Because. Fuck it, Kurt, you know I love you and we are kind of great together. We work.”

“I know,” says Kurt. All the things he’s losing are suddenly bright in his mind. The kindness and understanding and laughter. The ease of this thing. The way they’ve just fit, so often. But somehow that makes it all clear again. Because it was almost always easy, but that wasn’t going to suddenly make it enough.

“So what is it?” says Adam. “He just swoops in singing songs that make you nostalgic, cozying up to you on stage, kissing you. You kissing him. And suddenly he has all your attention?” Adam drops his eyes to the floor. “It wasn’t real, Kurt. If you head straight back into his arms-” 

“It’s not about Blaine.”

Adam looks up, his clear eyes skeptical and hurt.

“It’s not _just_ about Blaine,” says Kurt. He owes Adam complete honesty. “I need to spend some time alone,” says Kurt.

“Whatever you want to tell yourself. I still think we could have had something real.” He says, again, “I could have made you happy.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “I know. I know. It’s just that I have to believe a relationship can be more.”

Adam takes a breath. “It was always more,” he says. “That’s the worst part. It was always more for me.”

“I’m truly sorry,” says Kurt.

Adam considers him for a drawn out moment.

Then he says, “Don’t fool yourself into thinking that this meant nothing to you, Kurt. Don’t you dare fool yourself. I know you. We were together a long time. I helped you through your first year away from home. I held you when your brother died. Whatever you say to yourself, our relationship meant something.”

Kurt says, “I don’t think it was nothing. I would never think that. Adam, it mattered to me. It just wasn’t enough.” It feels final.

Outside someone is calling their dog over and over. Through the walls, Adam’s neighbor is playing something aggressively hipster, with banjos. 

“Well that’s it then,” says Adam. He sounds tired. “I know there’s, God-” He shakes his head “- there’s things to organize. But right now I feel stupid and I feel betrayed and I can’t stand to look at you. I need you to go.”

Kurt’s hands are shaking. “Yeah. Of course,” he says. “Of course.” Adam isn’t watching as he walks out. He doesn’t apologize again. It wouldn’t change anything.


	4. Chapter 4

(December 2013)

The show’s over and everyone’s in recital and exam mode. When Rachel messages to cancel the final potluck of the year, Blaine has no more reason to see Kurt. He knows they’re both heading home for Christmas but of course, Kurt’s focus will be his family and the unthinkable hole in their center.

They’re friends. However real it felt to kiss Kurt on stage, however alien it felt to watch him with Adam and to go home with someone else after that, he and Kurt are still just friends.

So Blaine sends texts. It seems less risky than calling. Kurt always replies. His messages are sometimes brief, sometimes funny. Blaine has no idea what he’s really feeling.

Before the end of semester Blaine hooks up with Henry again a couple of times. The guy has a dancer’s lithe body and an amused directness that makes interaction appealing. Blaine even stays over once, sleeping at floor level on Henry’s queen size futon. The sex is fun, but neither of them are looking for more than short term and physical. Blaine isn’t over Kurt. He’s more than aware he doesn’t have space for anything else.

Once school is over for the year, Blaine flies back to Ohio with Sam. 

It feels different to be in his family home as a visitor. Blaine doesn’t live here anymore. He slides down the bannister like he used to as a kid. He sinks into the couch cushions that are even softer than he remembered. But he thinks of his own little place with Sam and tries not to forget the person he is when he’s there.

On Christmas day, Blaine texts with Kurt before anything. He signs off, _Call me any time if you want to talk._ For the rest of the day his mind is never far from Kurt and his family. Still, it comes as a surprise when his father mentions him while carving the turkey.

“Your friend Kurt must be having a hard time of it.”

When he and Kurt were together, Blaine would correct his parents’ use of “your friend” to refer to Kurt. But Kurt’s been just a ‘friend’ for well over a year. 

“I’ve heard from him today,” says Blaine. He’s grateful for the chance to speak about it out loud. “Just text messages. He seems fine, I guess. But-” Blaine thinks about it. “I know Kurt. I just hope his boyfriend is looking out for him.”

“You can find out when you see him at Tina’s party,” says his mother comfortably. “Can you pass the cranberry?”

The phone rings after Blaine is in bed.

“Hi,” Kurt says. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not at all,” says Blaine. He curls under the comforter with the phone to his ear. “I’m so glad you called. How are you?”

Kurt half laughs but there’s no happiness in it. It breaks Blaine’s heart not to be able to hold him. “I don’t know,” Kurt says.

“You don’t have to know,” says Blaine. He lets the silence sit between them. He’s trying to avoid wanting to fix everything.

“Tell me about your Christmas,” says Kurt.

So Blaine tells him about his Aunt Joy’s extraordinary turban, about his Aunt Rebecca’s spiked Tsokolate, about Cooper’s gift of acting lessons for their mom and dad. “You might not be actors,” Cooper said, “but everyone needs to reach out and grasp the true power of a strong stage presence.”

Kurt giggles down the phone. “Please tell me he’s teaching the class,” he says.

“Who else?” says Blaine and Kurt giggles again.

“Thanks for answering,” says Kurt a bit later.

“Of course,” says Blaine. He’s warm and his eyes are heavy. “I mean it when I say any time.”

“Thank you.” Kurt hesitates. “I guess I should go.”

Blaine would love to fall asleep with Kurt right there next to his ear but he can hardly say that.

“I’ll see you at Tina’s,” he says instead. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

**

The evening of Tina’s party, Blaine goes over early to help her set up. He hasn’t seen Tina in six months but when he hugs her it feels just like it always did. They squeeze tightly and bounce a little with excitement.

“Queen T, I am so, so happy to have you back,” he says when they break apart. “Tell me everything while we decorate?”

“I will. But hold your horses for a mo. This is serious. I am trusting your refined ‘resident of New York City’ taste with the decorations, Blaine. Nothing tacky. Nothing gaudy.”

Blaine looks at the storage boxes filled with fairy lights and lanterns and black silk. “Perfect,” he says. She looks at him quickly, slightly suspicious. “So what do you want me to do?”

While they hang lanterns across the room she tells him about Istanbul and Seoul and hitchhiking through Scotland in the fog. He tells her about New York and NYADA and his job at the piano bar, the joy and despair of living with Sam.

“You’re truly making it in New York City,” she says. “You’re big time now. I’m so happy for you.” She hooks the last lantern to the cord they’ve strung and meets his eyes. “You know you haven’t mentioned Kurt once.”

“I’m sure I have. He was the lead of the play.”

She shrugs, eyebrows raised under her bangs. Blaine turns away to start untangling the fairy lights.

She says, “I know he was. It’s not like I haven’t had emails from both of you. But what can I say, Blainey-days? You haven’t said his name all evening. What’s going on between you two?”

Blaine climbs onto a chair to start hanging the fairy lights across the rafters.

“Earth to Blaine,” says Tina. “I’m your best girlfriend. You can tell me everything.”

Blaine looks down at her and considers what to say. He hasn’t seen Kurt since watching him stick so close to Adam at the after-party.

“There’s really nothing to tell. Kurt and I are friends, T.” At least that’s true. “I’m worried about him though. It’s got to be hard for him and for Rachel to be back in town.”

“Kurt’s survived a lot,” she says.

“That doesn’t mean it’s easy. And he doesn’t need to do it alone.” He moves the chair and hooks the next section of lights up.

“No.” She pauses. “Is his boyfriend supportive?”

Blaine looks up to hang the next of the lights. “He seems nice,” he says to the ceiling.

“Okay.”

“He loves Kurt.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Blaine says. He puts some energy into it. “Yeah, it is. I’m happy for him.”

“Good,” she says. “And yes. I know this won’t be easy for anyone. To get us all together after so many months. And to do it without Finn here. But we’re young, we’re home. You finished your first semester of college. Sam’s modelling. Mercedes is recording. Artie’s finished some movie about sex in the outer boroughs. I circumnavigated the world. Someone had to have a party. Who better to do it than me?”

Blaine grins down at her from the chair. “No one better.” He jumps off and moves the chair then climbs up again to loop the next section of lights over the picture rail.

“Now I need to get the music started before anyone arrives,” she says. “No way is Miss Rachel Berry getting her precious fingers on my party beats. Or Kurt Hummel for that matter.”

Blaine huffs indignantly as he hangs the last of the lights.

“No matter how much you love the boy,” she says, and his stomach twists a little, “You can’t tell me this party would be better for his Broadway meets Barbra sensibilities.”

“He’s not only into Broadway,” Blaine says.

She tilts her head and eyes him dubiously.

“And what’s wrong with Broadway anyway?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes.

There’s a ring at the door bell. Tina goes to answer it and suddenly Sam and Mercedes are there with a huge tureen and shopping bags full of bottles.

“I’m in charge of punch,” says Sam happily. Behind him Mercedes is shaking her head and mouthing “I am in charge of the punch.”

Blaine jumps off the chair to hug them both, then turns on the electricity to the fairy lights. They flick to life. The room looks sparkly and soft and, as Tina gets the music started, ready for a party. 

**

Kurt arrives late-ish. In the doorway, he’s leggy and pale, his long military jacket buttoned to his neck. Rachel’s with him. He bends to her shiny head and says something as they enter. She giggles, a little weakly. Then they’re swamped. Mercedes wraps Rachel up in her arms while Mike grabs Kurt with a “dude!” and a big smile. Quinn and Brittany and Sam gather round.

Kurt looks a little ragged but he’s still smiling when Blaine gets to him. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Blaine says. He doesn’t touch Kurt, in part because he thinks Kurt’s probably reached his ‘being touched by people’ limits.

Kurt lets out a breath. “I couldn’t leave Lima without seeing everyone.”

“Of course not.” There’s something contained about Kurt, perhaps even more than normal.

They study one another for a moment. Then Kurt says, “But while you’re here, I have to thank you, Blaine. Our grades came in for the theater intensive. The professor loved it.”

“Oh yes! I heard. That’s great news, Kurt.”

“You heard about the grades - oh, from Henry?”

“Yeah, I just-” 

Kurt smiles. “Of course. Great. Yeah. I saw you guys together at NYADA the other morning. He’s a good guy.” His smile is sort of brittle. “You guys are having fun?”

“Um, yes?” The whole conversation feels as far from Kurt and Blaine as possible. But this is how things are now. Blaine supposes they can discuss boys.

“Right, well, that’s good.” Kurt nods to himself.

“It’s just a-”

Tina approaches with a drink for each of them. Kurt’s is in a glass. He nods his appreciation.

“Thanks for coming, Kurt,” she says. “I know you want to be with your dad and Carole.”

“I wanted to be here, too. So, Tina. Tell me all about Europe. I know you were in Milan for the Moda Donna fashion week.”

“You would have loved it,” she says and launches into a description of the silhouettes and Dolce and Gabbana’s amazing all black and silver line, which featured a complete lack of pants. “It felt almost cruel sending you a postcard from there,” she says and Kurt smiles a real smile.

“I’ll admit the jealousy burned inside me,” he says lightly. “But we have fashion in New York. And the Met and FIT have these amazing exhibitions.”

“Not to mention there are rumors of new shops at the mall here in town,” says Blaine.

“Which Tina and Mercedes and I have committed to investigating this week,” says Kurt. “If you want to join us?”

Blaine feels the old thrill of going anywhere with Kurt. “Absolutely. I would love that.”

Tina claps her hands. “Even better,” she says. “This is going to be fun.”

“I wonder if the massage chairs are still in operation,” says Blaine and Kurt’s eyes flick to him with amusement.

“Tina!” says Sugar stepping between Kurt and Blaine. “I have a proposal. You’ve got no purpose for the next, what, seven months, right?” She turns her head and looks from Kurt to Blaine. “Oh! Are you two trying this thing again?” She gestures between them. “Bold move.”

Blaine no longer wants to pat her on her large floppy bow.

Kurt says, “I’ll leave you three to catch up,” and moves over to where Mercedes and Mike are putting together some dance moves. Mercedes draws him in to dance with her and he laughs and shimmies between them.

Blaine leaves Tina to Sugar’s devices. In the next room, Sam and Brittany have cornered Tina’s family cat and are singing Canadian folk songs to it. They sound good together, harmonizing in a round on the chorus. Blaine joins them, feeling a bit like he’s ten years old and back at summer camp.

Later he sees Kurt leaning up against a bookshelf. He’s watching the party go on around him, looking like he’s relaxed into the space and the crowd.

Blaine approaches and leans with him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Kurt glances at him and smiles.

Blaine says, “I didn’t want to ask over the phone. I know it’s not easy. But I hope it’s been okay at home.”

“Oh.” Kurt blinks. Blaine wonders if he shouldn’t have asked. “It’s been-” He looks down. “I sort of grew used to it in New York. Used to him being gone. After all, he never lived there. But being in Lima. It’s like I’m always surprised by his absence. It feels like losing him all over again every day. We’re coping. Rachel too. But you’re right, it’s not easy.”

Blaine slides closer, places a hand carefully on Kurt’s arm. “It’s so good that you’re there for your dad and Carole,” he says. “They must really appreciate that.”

“I wish I could be here more.”

“I know. Sam visited a bit, before we moved to New York. I mean, we all did. But Sam is close to them.”

Kurt turns his body toward Blaine. “You’re important to them too. It was a good thing for Carole, having you both to visit over those first few months. Dad too, in his way. I was so grateful to you.”

Blaine blushes, pleased and sad. “Of course we went. We all miss him too.”

“I know.” Kurt looks down at his feet.

Blaine’s confident what he’s saying is true. “They’re proud of you, of all the things you’re doing in New York. I know they miss you but they’d never want you to give up on your dreams to stay home with them.”

Kurt pats Blaine’s hand where it lies on his arm. For just a second Blaine revels in the touch. Then _Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man_ comes on the stereo and Kurt lifts his weight from the bookshelf and steps away. “Rachel finally found the controller,” he says. “I’d better make sure she doesn’t play anything too divisive.”

Blaine goes to find more punch and then Sam and Mercedes. “You did a great job on the punch, Sam,” he says, looking at Mercedes. “Even Puck can’t find fault with it.”

“Ooh, that is a bad sign,” says Mercedes, but Sam is beaming.

“It’s a good party,” says Blaine. His eyes catch on Kurt across the room, talking with Quinn. The fairy lights make both of them even more beautiful than usual.

“How is he?” asks Sam.

“I don’t know. He seems okay,” Blaine says. “Mercedes might know better than me.”

Mercedes shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him at all since the day after the break-up.”

Blaine freezes. He turns to her slowly. “Break-up?”

“Oh,” Mercedes says. “Okay.” She looks at Sam then back at Blaine. “Kurt and Adam broke up two weeks ago.”

Blaine says, shakily, “But I’ve spoken to him. Why didn’t he say?”

Mercedes looks at him steadily. “Blaine, honey. I can think of a few reasons he might not say. Not to you.”

Blaine looks past Mercedes. Kurt’s eyes are on him. There’ll never be a time they don’t find one another across a room.

“Oh,” Blaine says to Mercedes. His tongue feels stupid in his mouth.

Blaine forces himself to be realistic. This doesn’t mean anything to him. It just means Kurt is single. And more alone than Blaine thought. It doesn’t mean he and Kurt are going to be anything more than they already are.

For the rest of the night, Blaine doesn’t even try to speak with Kurt. What would Blaine say anyway. _I’m sorry to hear about Adam…_ Sorry isn’t exactly the word for what Blaine’s feeling.

Blaine’s with Tina near the front door when Kurt approaches. “I’m taking Rachel home,” he says, including both of them in his clear-eyed glance. “Thank you. Exceptional party, Ms. Tina Cohen-Chang.”

“You’re very welcome,” says Tina. Then she frowns in thought. She reaches out and takes Kurt’s wrist. He looks down at her hand for a moment.

“I think we should organize something,” she says, with contained excitement. “A weekend away with just the people who loved him. I travelled to all kinds of places with all kinds of customs and every one of them said that people should be remembered. I don’t think we should keep waiting to do that. Plus we’d get to see each other again.”

“Okay,” says Kurt carefully. Blaine looks at him, watches as he takes a breath.

“I’m going to do it,” says Tina. She releases Kurt’s wrist. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

Kurt bites his lip. “Let me think about it,” he says. He hugs them both and follows Rachel out. 

Blaine steps out through the door and watches them leave. It’s hard not to feel like all the color has gone when Kurt leaves an event. But he hears Tina and Sam laughing together in the hall, and that’s a different kind of fun. This is a party, these are his friends and someone seems to be playing a P!nk song. He heads inside where it’s warm.

**

(January 2014)

A couple of days after he’s back in New York, Blaine goes to the museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology. They’re exhibiting dance costumes designed by celebrated fashion designers - Valentino and Yves Saint Laurent, Iris van Herpen and Christian Lacroix.

He considered inviting Kurt, of course. But he had a free couple of hours and he’s making an effort to go to the things that interest him by himself. It’s just a bonus that stepping into these particular exhibition rooms makes him feel close to Kurt.

The last time they saw one another they shared a hot pretzel and pronounced judgment on ninety percent of the items available in the mall, before helping Tina find a perfect dress. It was a good day.

Blaine weaves his way through the ballet costumes and the flamenco dresses. There’s a gorgeous mod style dancing dress and some gauzy ghost pieces for men and women. Blaine spends a long time watching video of Gregory Hines and wondering if he could ever move like that.

There are benefits to being here alone, no one to wait for or catch up to, no one to impress. But he can’t help but keep a list of the things he’d like to tell someone.

Of course, he looks up from a snaky green costume and sees Kurt.

Blaine blinks. He’s thought that he caught sight of Kurt often enough - across a restaurant Kurt’s never been in, sitting in an unfamiliar car as Blaine walks past, holding hands with a complete stranger. But when Blaine opens his eyes, this Kurt is still Kurt. He’s dressed in gloriously skinny jeans and a suede jacket and is standing back to consider a black leather ensemble by Rick Owens.

Blaine doesn’t even think about it. He approaches. “Kurt,” he says reaching out a hand and not quite touching Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt whirls about. His eyes widen. “Blaine!” He’s all happiness. It sits bright in Blaine’s chest. Kurt’s face hasn’t lit up quite like that in what feels like forever. So long that Blaine had almost forgotten he was missing it.

They spend an hour and a half alternately admiring and critiquing pieces, commenting on how certain meshes and gauzes would move, trying to work out how a Commes de Garcons “bump” dress would work in any dance at all. The truth is, neither of them have a dance background and the time here is going to have to come to an end. Blaine can’t help lingering though.

Eventually Blaine asks, “Will you come and get coffee with me? Or maybe,” he looks at his watch, “an early dinner?”

Kurt doesn’t hesitate at all. “It’ll be a late lunch for me,” he says, “but that sounds perfect.”

**

They walk to Eataly on Kurt’s suggestion and enter the huge food hall. There are rows and rows of produce. Blaine feels himself staring. He wants a chance to try it all.

“The _cheeses_ , Kurt. Just look at them!”

Kurt pats his shoulder supportively. “You haven’t been here before?” he asks as they walk on past sundried tomatoes and crusty bread.

“No.” Blaine stalls again in front of a huge case of olives and antipasti.

“Someone has definitely dropped the ball, then,” says Kurt. Blaine hears the smile in his voice as he takes Blaine by the shoulders and propels him toward one of the tables. “I’m starving, let’s eat. We can stop and get some things as we leave if you want.”

Blaine can only nod his enthusiasm.

“So, I’ve asked Lu about collaborating again,” says Kurt once they’re seated and have decided what to eat. “You know Lu, she directed _Ringmaster_.”

Blaine stops thinking about food. “That’s wonderful. You two had such great energy together.”

Kurt bounces a little in his chair. “You should see what we’re planning! I have some ideas for a new show. We think we’ll try putting something together and even look at getting small scale funding. A couple of the theater and music professors who liked _Ringmaster_ are willing to advise us.”

Blaine beams at him. “I’m so excited for you.”

Kurt laughs. “You may be less excited when I come knocking on your door asking you to workshop the male lead,” he says.

Blaine doubts it. He briefly wonders if this might be enough. Maybe for the sake of having Kurt smiling and dreaming up creative works somewhere nearby, Blaine can be happy just with friendship. Maybe he can give up all the other things he wants from Kurt.

But Kurt’s hands rest on the table and Blaine just wants to hold them. And when he looks into Kurt’s sparkling eyes all he wants to do is kiss him. So… probably not.

“There’s this narrative we’re considering with one of the writers. I get to play both a murderer and his victim. Well the ghost of his victim. Or maybe he’s an angel. We haven’t figured out the details. It’s- it might just be vanity that makes me want to do it.”

“No,” says Blaine. “You’d be amazing.”

Kurt laughs. “You’re kinder than Lu was,” he says. “Though I convinced her I could do it.”

Blaine doesn’t say _Of course I’m kinder than Lu. I’m in love with you._ He’s pretty sure that’s obvious to Kurt anyway.

“Are you going to Tina’s weekend away in March?” Blaine asks. “For Finn,” he adds carefully.

Kurt’s eyes are soft. “Yes. I still need to let her know I’ll be there. But yes. I want to remember him. With people.”

“I’m glad,” says Blaine as their food arrives. “I hoped you could come.”

After their waiter leaves Kurt asks, “Looking forward to getting back to the piano bar now that everyone adores you as they should?” He’s teasing.

Blaine blushes and smiles down at his crostino. “I practised some new songs over break,” he says. “I want to switch things up a bit. I hope they’ll go down well with anyone who turns up.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but it’s still sweet somehow. “With your bevy of fans, you mean. They’ll all love you and you know it. That last show the back room was full.”

Blaine nods, pleased. “It’s all so great. And yes, I’m excited to get back.” He takes a bite. “This chicken liver is really good. You should try some.”

After they’ve finished their meals and hunted down some Nutella tarts Kurt says, “I have to get going soon. I promised Rachel I’d help her prep for our Theater of the Absurd class. But this has been really fun, just hanging out.” Kurt looks at Blaine consideringly. “There’s a sample sale at John Varvatos. It opens Friday. If you wanted we could go along and still get to the piano bar in plenty of time.”

“I’d love that,” says Blaine.

Kurt beams. “So, let’s make your day and take a look at all that cheese before we leave,” he says.

_**_

(February 2014 _)_

The loft is blissfully quiet. Rachel’s in Chicago previewing _Funny Girl_ , and Santana is spending a couple of weeks at home in Lima while her abuela is ill.

Kurt loves the girls, of course, but he revels in this time alone. He loves walking into a space that’s all his. He can lock the door to any interruption, to any expectation of smiling conversation or chance of mediating a dispute. The first night alone he leaves the privacy curtains open and lies in his bed looking through the panes glass to the fire escape and the blank charcoal sky behind. He’s almost tempted to stay home for a week, skip class and just soak in all the space.

The potluck’s at Blaine and Sam’s this week. Kurt takes the subway with his risotto carefully sealed up in tupperware.

His stomach flips as he lifts his hand to knock at the door. He’s become accustomed to this feeling. It’s around pretty much any time he’s due to see Blaine.

Mercedes opens the door. “Welcome,” she says. She grimaces a little. “This is not a happy household today.”

Kurt steps in and Blaine and Sam look up miserably from the couch.

“What is it?” Kurt asks, looking between them.

Mercedes takes the risotto, handing him a sheet of rumpled paper. “There was a notice on the door when I got here five minutes ago. They’re fumigating the whole building. Termites and mice apparently. Probably rats too. The boys need to vacate the apartment.”

“For five days,” says Sam.

“Right in the middle of term,” says Blaine, “which is _so_ impractical.”

“I’d have them stay at my place,” says Mercedes. “But Jessamyn just moved in to the spare room.”

Kurt doesn’t ask who Jessamyn is. He looks at the notice for longer than it takes to read it.

“Well,” he says slowly. He wonders if this is a terrible idea, “I think I can solve your problem. You guys can both come and stay with me.”

Blaine looks up and meets Kurt’s eyes. “No. No way. We can’t put you out like that, Kurt.”

“What are you talking about?” says Sam glaring at Blaine. 

“The girls are away” says Kurt. “It’s the least I can do.”

“But I know how much you were enjoying all that empty space and all that time to yourself,” says Blaine.

“You can still walk around naked with us there,” says Sam sincerely. “We won’t mind.”

Kurt addresses Blaine. “It’ll be fine. You need a place to stay, I have it. Anyway, I owe you. You went above and beyond in helping me out with the show last year.”

Blaine examines him for a time. Kurt makes sure he looks firm and confident.

“Thank you, Kurt,” Blaine says eventually. “This is a real help.” His earnestness is appealing. Kurt has always loved helping him.

Over dinner, Kurt watches both the guys. This should be fine. He’s lived with Sam before. And Blaine never feels like a stranger. They can all live together. This is going to be fine.

“So you’ll move in on Sunday,” Kurt asks as he leaves.

“We will,” says Blaine. “We won’t bring everything, just what we need.”

“You are going to love it,” says Sam. “We’re very responsible. And Blaine makes the best pancakes.”

“I’ll add blueberries,” Blaine says. His eyes sparkle at Kurt. He knows most of Kurt’s many weaknesses.

**

Sam and Blaine arrive early in the evening to move in. They splurged on a car service so Sam’s even brought his guitar. The three of them share pizza and a bottle of wine. Sam and Blaine hand Sam’s guitar between them as they all sing for a bit. It feels sweet. It also feels like something that’s been lost for too long. Kurt tries not to think about it too hard.

“Lovely as this is,” Kurt says eventually, “I’m in at vogue.com tomorrow morning. So it’s bedtime for me.”

Blaine looks at the time. “I have an early class,” he says. “And I need to prep for it beforehand. As for Sam, he always needs his beauty sleep.”

“Damn straight,” says Sam, packing away his guitar.

Once he’s safely in bed, Kurt watches the ceiling. It’s strange to think of Blaine sleeping just feet away. Strange and awful to remember the last time they both slept here. It must be difficult for Blaine, too. Kurt breathes into the dark. It’s a terrible thing to be nostalgic for something that never really was.

In the morning Kurt stumbles bleary-eyed to the bathroom. He comes to a sudden halt inches from Blaine’s chest. Kurt blinks. Blinks again. Blaine has a towel wrapped around his waist, but his upper body is naked and slightly damp.

“Oh sorry,” says Kurt, still staring at Blaine’s chest. He reins in the desire to trace a droplet of water across it with his tongue.

“Sorry,” echoes Blaine breathlessly. “I was just. I thought I’d be through the shower before you made it up.” He gestures into the steamy room. “I was just going back for my hair gel.”

“Go ahead,” says Kurt. He steps back and forces his gaze up to Blaine’s face. He must be still half asleep. The damp curls are no less tempting than Blaine’s naked chest was.

Blaine protests. “No, no. I’m finished, you go in.”

“Blaine. I can wait a minute. I know you need your gel,” says Kurt. He manages a smile.

Blaine smiles back, and hesitates, eyes still on Kurt. In that time Sam walks between them, goes into the bathroom and locks the door.

Blaine huffs out a breath. “Sam-” he starts.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I’m going back to bed,” he says. That’s about all he can manage. There’s still time before he needs to leave for the day.

Under the covers he feels his body waking up. He longs to touch himself, just close his eyes, fist his cock and jerk himself off. Well. If he’s honest, he longs for something much more perilous than that. He lies still, wraps his arms around his body, and holds himself in check.

**

Later in the week, Kurt arrives home from an evening class. He hangs up his jacket and puts his bag on the dining table. Blaine steps in from Santana’s area. He looks sweet and as handsome as he’s ever been in perfectly fitted pants and a striped scoop-neck sweater.

“Hey,” Kurt says.

Blaine’s face lights appealingly. “Hey, you’re home! Good class?”

“Oh, you know, mostly,” says Kurt. The loft feels quiet. “Is Sam around?”

“No, he’s out having dinner with Mercedes. I think he’ll be late.” Blaine turns to survey his coats on the coat rack.

“Okay. And you’re on your way out?” Kurt asks.

Blaine nods. “I’m going to see _Etter_ at the Film Forum with a few NYADA people.”

“The Norwegian post-apocalyptic film? It’s supposed to be excellent. You’ll have to tell me what you think. Who’s going?”

“Just some of the guys. Henry and Rafe and Chris.”

Blaine hasn’t mentioned Henry since Tina’s party. Kurt had almost forgotten. “Oh.” He swallows. “So I won’t expect you home?”

Blaine looks a little surprised. “No. Oh no, I’ll be back. But hey, do you want to come along? It’d be fun and they’d love to see you.”

Kurt looks around the loft. There’s some clothes he wants to alter, some new music he wants to listen to. Lu’s sent through some scene suggestions he should read over. A movie would be fun, especially with Blaine, but he hasn’t had much time to himself this week. “No. You go. I think I’ll stay.”

Blaine studies him seriously for a moment. “Okay. Enjoy your night to yourself.”

“I will. And say hi to the guys for me.” Blaine looks back at the coat rack. Kurt considers it with him. “Your navy pea coat would look perfect with that sweater,” he says.

Blaine takes the coat with a pleased nod. “You’re right,” he says. “Thank you.” He lets himself out.

After the door’s closed, Kurt keeps smiling after him. Then he whirls around and surveys his domain. So many possibilities. But first, he’ll check if there’s any leftover stew for dinner. Blaine made it last night and it was delicious.

Hours later there’s a key in the lock. Kurt looks up quickly from the vest he’s pinning on the dressmaker’s dummy. The door opens to Blaine. He looks relaxed and gorgeous.

“You’re back,” Kurt says, stating the obvious. “Have fun?”

“It was great! Though I’m not sure the movie would be your kind of thing. It was pretty dark.”

Kurt stands and stretches his back. “Good thing I didn’t come then,” he says. “I’d have spent the whole time with my face buried in your shoulder.”

Blaine’s smile falters and Kurt shakes his head. There are barbs for both of them in every conversation. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, don’t be,” says Blaine, his voice low. “Don’t be.”

Kurt steps into the kitchen. “I was going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

“I’d love some. Thank you, Kurt. So, what are you working on?” He walks over toward the dressmaker’s dummy.

Kurt exhales, relieved at the shift in conversation. “It’s a J. Tomson vest. Gorgeous isn’t it? I got it on Amazon. I still can’t believe I found it.” He fills the kettle and puts it on the stovetop to boil. Then he rests a hip against the bench and watches Blaine.

Blaine’s examining the vest more closely. He turns back to Kurt. “It was clearly meant to be. You’re going to look gorgeous in it,” he says. Kurt blushes happily.

Blaine walks into the kitchen and takes the tea from the cupboard. He places a teabag in each mug that Kurt’s put on the bench. Kurt nods his thanks.

They sit at the dining table in companionable silence until Kurt finds the courage to ask, “So am I right in thinking you’re not seeing Henry any more?”

“Seeing? Oh. No. That was only ever a casual thing.”

“Right,” says Kurt. They always had so much in common that Kurt sometimes overlooked their differences.

Blaine says, “That reminds me, though, I saw Adam today.”

Kurt’s surprised. “At the movies?”

“Oh no. No, earlier. At NYADA. We didn’t speak or anything. Just, it made me think. Are you okay with everything that happened with him? I didn’t really get to talk with you at the time. And break-ups are hard.”

“Oh,” says Kurt. “I mean, it was my decision. I don’t know if that makes it easier at the time but it means I’d already done some of the thinking to get through. So…”

“Yeah, I can understand that.” The steam curls out of Blaine’s cup in front of him.

Kurt says, “It was the right decision.” Blaine doesn’t press but it’s late, the rest of the loft is in darkness save the two of them at the table. It feels safe and dangerous at once. “The relationship with him just never felt the way I knew love could feel, I guess.”

There’s a long pause between them. Kurt takes a sip of tea, then asks, “Is he doing well?”

“Yeah. He looked fine, Kurt. As far as I can tell.”

“Good,” says Kurt. “That’s good.”

“He seemed like a nice guy.”

“He is. Definitely. He just wasn’t-” Kurt doesn’t finish the sentence. It’s time to move on to simpler subject matter. “So you guys are moving out tomorrow,” he says.

Blaine nods. “We are. I imagine you’re thrilled to have the place to yourself again until Santana’s back?”

Kurt considers. “I’m looking forward to it, sure. But I loved having you here. Both of you.”

It’s true. Sam is relaxed company and being around Blaine - being around Blaine buzzes under his skin and yet is such an easy thing it doesn’t feel like being in company at all. Plus he does make fabulous pancakes.

“Thank you, Kurt,” says Blaine. “Not just for letting us stay, but for all of it.” He’s close, just a table between them, and his eyes are an earnest gold under his lashes.

Kurt thinks _I could kiss him_. He looks down into his empty mug. “Okay, time for bed,” he says and pushes his chair back as he stands. The noise of the chair scraping against the floor is startling in the hushed room.

“I’ll rinse the mugs,” says Blaine. He looks up. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Blaine.”

Blaine’s still sitting there as Kurt heads into the bathroom.

Kurt closes the curtains around his space. He hears Blaine moving quietly about the loft as he heads into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

(March 2014)

Tina’s arranged a six-bedroom house on a lake in Pennsylvania for their weekend away. On the Friday, Blaine and Sam and Mercedes take a train to Philadelphia to meet her and rent a car from one of the few places that will rent to under 21s. They keep the windows open and sing for most of the car trip. Blaine and Tina are in the front. Sam and Mercedes take the back, probably thinking they’re being subtle holding hands.

It’s early in the afternoon when they pull up. The house sits right on a lake. It’s huge. Blaine figures it has to be. Almost everyone from the brief history of McKinley’s glee club is coming. It’ll be full to bursting.

Even if it weren’t for the circumstances, this kind of get together would be harder for Kurt than it will be for Blaine. As Blaine walks in he tries to look at the house through Kurt’s eyes. It’s nice. Clean. It’s clearly owned by someone with a taste for Fall colors and duck motifs, though they’ve combined that with imitation granite kitchen benches, a pool table, and a large collection of clocks set to show times around the world. Kurt’s reaction will combine disparagement and fondness.

But there’s plenty of space, lots of couches and corner tables and lone chairs in odd little nooks.

Blaine’s sharing a kids’ bedroom with Sam, Jake and Ryder. Ryder texted them all a high five when he heard. Blaine puts his bag on one of the top bunks. He knows Sam prefers the bottom.

Kitty, Marley, Unique and Sugar are sharing the other kids’ bedroom. Mike, Matt, Puck and Artie are together in the library’s fold out beds on the ground floor. Santana and Brittany are sharing a queen room - and no one is asking anything about that. Rachel was offered the single up at the top of the house, but said she'd rather be in with friends so she’s sharing with Mercedes and Tina. Which leaves Kurt with the single. 

In the old days, being given the one single room would have felt like a slight on Kurt. It might even have _been_ a slight, or at least an indication that Kurt wasn’t easy, that he didn’t fall neatly into any group. But it’s not about that anymore. And besides, Finn was Kurt’s brother.

Blaine makes his way downstairs. Tina and Brittany are sitting outside in the last of the day’s sun. It’s unusually warm and they’ve removed their shoes and are dangling jeans-clad legs above the water. Blaine goes out to join them.

The lake is lovely; the wooden deck feels like it’s hovering over the wide expanse of water. Up above it the trees are mostly bare against the sky. Blaine soaks everything in. It’s not that he doesn’t spend time outside in New York. But he’s usually going somewhere, and if he’s not then all the people around him always are.

“I can’t help thinking how much Finn would like this,” says Tina. She doesn’t look at the others.

“I think he’d like it better if we were celebrating something else,” says Brittany.

“His second Nationals win,” says Blaine.

Brittany nods seriously, “Or a good meatball sub. Or really great boobs.”

They fall silent again. Blaine looks out on the lake and watches ripple after ripple make its way to shore. 

“Still, Tina’s right. He’d like this,” says Blaine. “All of us together.”

It’s almost dinnertime by the time Kurt arrives with Rachel and Santana.

“Looks like everyone beat us here,” says Santana. “We would have made better time if a certain someone hadn’t forgotten the cough drops she needed. There was no convincing her that they have drug stores in Pennsylvania too.”

Rachel stamps her way in, “They’re prescription. Anyway we would have been earlier if you’d let me pack instead of calling a house meeting and forcing me to build my case about the bathroom cleaning schedule.”

Kurt walks in behind them, rolling his eyes. He glances swiftly around the room, taking in all the people. He pauses in the doorway.

“I’ll show you where your beds are,” says Blaine.

He points Rachel and Santana in the direction of their rooms. Right at the top of the stairs is Kurt’s tiny attic space. Kurt’s shoulders drop in relief as Blaine opens the door.

“The roof’s sloped,” says Blaine. “You’re tall enough that you’ll need to watch your head.”

“Are you trying to steal my room?” asks Kurt.

“What? No!” says Blaine.

Kurt laughs a soft half laugh. “It’s perfect,” he says. “Thank you.”

For dinner, Jake and Kitty have made a huge stack of enchiladas, which they place on the kitchen bench. 

“Roll up and eat,” calls Jake. Everyone finds plates and silverware and food. They sit around the table. It feels weird to be here together with no teachers or parents, no real grown-ups at all. But then, they’re the grown-ups now. This weekend is proof of that. 

Halfway through the meal, a neat black Toyota Hybrid pulls up. Everyone looks at Tina. She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not expecting anyone else,” she says.

Puck half stands from the table and peers out. “It looks like-”

The car door opens and Quinn steps out into the twilight. Mercedes, Santana and Brittany rush to meet her. 

“I know I said I couldn’t come,” Quinn says when she makes it inside. “But then I thought I’d regret it if I missed it.” She looks around the table. “I was right. I’m already glad to be here.” She hesitates a little then says, “He’d have liked this so much.”

“He would. And we’re glad you came too,” says Mercedes.

Kitty says, “There’s plenty of enchiladas left. Jake’ll heat some up for you.”

After dinner, Tina raises her voice. “Okay everyone. Listen up. Mr. Schue really wanted to be here with us. But with everything that’ going on for him he couldn’t be. So he asked me to call him tonight so we could all check in.”

She puts her phone on speaker as she dials, then places it in the middle of the table. Mr. Schuester answers.

“Hi guys,” his voice is clear on the line. Blaine can picture his ready smile.

“Hi, Mr. Schue,” says Ryder.

“Is everyone there?”

There’s a chorus of yeses. Tina adds “We’re all here, Mr. Schue.”

“Great. Look, I wish I could be there, but with the pregnancy and the job it just wasn’t possible. I’m really sorry about that. But I wanted to say ‘hi’ and also give you something, as a teacher, some kind of direction.”

Mr Schuester takes a breath that shakes a litte over the phone. “I guess I was thinking about how you might want to commemorate Finn this weekend.”

Kurt reaches out and rests his hand over Rachel’s on the table. His expression is unreadable as he catches Blaine’s eye.

Mr. Schuester goes on. “The first time I heard Finn sing he was belting out this song in the shower. And when I heard him I thought, here’s a kid who puts his whole heart into singing. He was good, too. You all know. But more than that, he had heart.”

“That he did,” says Mercedes, nodding her head. Rachel leans in against Kurt. 

“So I thought, what better way to celebrate him than to sing the song that got him into Glee in the first place. I sent an arrangement with Tina. I thought you guys could pull it together, one last McKinley High big group number for him.”

Tina places a stack of sheet music on the table. Santana’s eyes widen, “Hell, no. No way. I should have known this weekend would be a big saccharine singalong.”

Mr. Schuester’s smile is audible down the phone. “Well, I’m not your teacher any more, Santana. I just thought you might get something out of it.”

Brittany pats her arm soothingly and Santana mutters to herself.

“Thank you, Mr. Schue,” says Tina, glaring around the room to ensure everyone’s silence. “We all appreciate this.”

“Thanks Tina. I know you all miss him as much as I do.”

After Mr. Schuester’s hung up everyone looks at one another.

“I don’t know,” says Puck. “It’s been a long time since I sang anything.”

“I don’t like it,” says Sugar. “But then, I still feel betrayed by William Schuester. He changed the Glee club schedule and never told me about it. I’m fairly sure the trauma made me tone deaf.”

Blaine looks down at the sheet music Tina passes him. He reads.

_I can’t fight this feeling any longer (Rachel)_

_And yet I’m still afraid to let it flow (Blaine)_

Blaine flips the page. On the second verse Kurt and some of the others pick up some backing vocals. The arrangement looks simple enough. But it doesn’t feel right.

“The arrangement’s more a duet than a group number,” Blaine says. He pushes the pages he has across the table to Rachel and Kurt.

Kurt looks at them and raises his eyebrows. “I’m afraid Mr Schuester is living in the past,” he says. His words are crisp. “He’s trying to recreate the dynamic we had. Before.”

“So he wants talented people swaying in the back while Rachel and Finn sing duets and make out?” asks Santana.

“We were in love, Santana,” says Rachel, clear and soft.

Santana meets Rachel’s eyes. When she nods it’s an apology of sorts.

Rachel looks around the table. “Much as my gifts make it my responsibility to sing lead, I do think Kurt’s right. We can’t get back what we lost. I can’t sing this. Don’t take this as a judgement on you, Blaine.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I won’t.”

“Okay. I mean, I know it’s weird,” says Tina thoughtfully. “And I don’t even get to sing until page three. But I thought it was a good idea to do something meaningful tonight. I wanted a chance for us all to clarify why we’re here.”

There’s a pause.

Brittany raises her hand above her head like she’s in school. “I have another idea,” she says. She tilts her head, thinking. “Just a second.” She hops up from her chair and heads up the hallway. When she returns she has a box of colored markers.

“This will be amazing,” she says. “But sad too. Just like we all are.” She points to the stack of sheet music. “Take some paper. I want everyone to write down a message for Finn. Or write something Finn loved. Grilled cheese, drumming, football, squirrels. Even just Finn’s name. Then we’ll make him into boats. Like Vikings. And sail him out on the lake.”

Blaine watches Kurt and Rachel make eye contact.

Brittany turns to Kurt first, holding out the markers. “Kurt Hummel,” she says. Kurt’s eyes are stone gray. For a moment Blaine thinks he’s going to refuse to do this. But then he takes a red marker and pulls a sheet of paper across the table. He curls his arm around the paper and starts writing.

“I hate this,” says Puck when she gets to him. But he writes anyway, in angry slashes across the page.

For a moment everyone is silent, scratching on paper or looking into the distance. “I just don’t know what to write,” whispers Kitty. Marley leans in close to her. 

Blaine watches a tear slide down Quinn’s nose and drip onto the page in front of her.

He writes: _Thank_ _you for making me feel like we were already family._

It’s not long before everyone has something written down. They fold their papers into boats with mixed success. When they head outside the lake is smooth and silent. The sky is clear. No one speaks as they walk onto the dock.

Puck’s voice cracks a little as he breaks the silence. “We should set them on fire,” he says. “That’d be cool.” Jake nods at him and heads into the kitchen, returning with a lighter.

One after the other everyone lights a boat and drops it in. It’s far from perfect. A couple of the boats sink, some hardly burn before they’re doused in water. There’s no way to tell whose boats stay lit as they float out across the lake. It doesn’t matter. Every one of them is for Finn anyway.

Blaine wipes tears from his cheek with the back of his hand. Beside him Kurt is looking out into the dark. On the lake the last of the boats is flickering, the tiny flames giving way as the boat burns itself out. Kurt gives Blaine a glance then slides his fingers down Blaine’s arm and takes Blaine’s hand. For a moment the whole world stands still. Eventually all the little fires go out.

Once they’re back inside, Jake and Unique drag Mike and Blaine into a game of pool. Kurt folds his long limbs into an armchair in the corner of the games room and watches them.

***

It’s the silence that wakes Kurt the next morning. He’s used to the constant hum of New York City. He rubs a hand across his face. His eyes are tight and tired but he can’t sleep. He stays in his bed and watches the sky shift from dark to pale to blue through the attic window. He listens to the house below.

Once he can open his eyes fully he pulls on yoga pants and a long sleeved T and takes his yoga mat onto the enclosed back deck. He stretches under the trees, holding poses until his muscles feel warmly alive. Then he pulls on his running shoes and runs a loop past the dock and up to the road.

When he returns he jogs up the stairs, nearly colliding with Blaine coming out of the bathroom. At least Blaine is fully clothed this time.

“Sorry,” Kurt says, stepping back. He’s out of breath, sweaty and slightly embarrassed

Blaine blushes hotly. “No problem.”

Kurt takes his time over his shower. Once he’s dry he pulls on jeans with a crisp Diesel t-shirt and perfects his hair. Then he heads downstairs again to face breakfast with everyone.

The day is warm, as though Spring is already in full force even though it’s early March. For a while Kurt sits on the deck with Mercedes and Tina. He leans his back on the wall of the house, and pores over magazines, all the while maintaining conversation about Mercedes’ latest producer and Tina’s plans for next year.

Some of the others take the two canoes out. There’s laughter and splashing from the lake. Kurt’s looking out between the tree trunks when Sam and Blaine roll theirs.

He stands up quickly, but both heads bob up safely.

The two wet boys trail into the house shivering and dripping and miserable. Kurt rolls his eyes at them and hands them the dry towels he grabs from the bathroom cupboard. They wrap up in them gratefully.

“You should try it,” says Sam. “It’s fun.”

“I don’t want to get my hair wet,” says Kurt. He’s only half joking. “Anyway I had my day’s exercise this morning.”

“Yeah, Blaine mentioned he saw you,” Sam says.

Next to them Blaine chokes a little. His cheeks are flushed.

Later Tina makes dinner, with grudging help from Artie and Mike. After they’ve eaten Marley stands. She smiles around the table sweetly. “So, hi. Unique and Ryder and I kind of liked the idea of singing Finn’s song for him so, we pulled something together. Just something low key.” Kitty smacks her arm. “Oh, and then we dragged Kitty and Jake in as well to help. If it’s okay with everyone we thought we could sing.”

Santana groans spectacularly but next to her, Rachel nods. 

The high schoolers pull up a line of stools. Marley and Kitty start them off, singing prettily together.

Kurt sits beside Blaine and watches five kids he doesn’t know that well sing for his brother, whom he loved. After a time Tina and Artie join in, then Sam and Puck and Mercedes and Blaine. They all sound wonderful.

And then, of course, the guitars come out - Marley’s and Puck’s and Blaine’s and Sam’s. Sam has his harmonica too. They sit and sing songs Finn loved. They also sing songs that he’d have hated, songs he’d have tried to like for Rachel or Kurt’s sake and top 40 songs that are so new Finn never even had a chance to hear. There are thousands of things that Finn will never see or hear or feel. The unfairness of it sits like acid in Kurt’s stomach.

The room is increasingly warm and noisy. The walls are closing in. Kurt pushes his chair back, trying not to interrupt Rachel and Santana, who are duetting about friendship, and goes outside.

There’s a dark corner on the deck. Kurt stands in it and looks up. Out here the sky goes on forever. Star after star after star. It’s beautiful. Its vastness settles in Kurt’s heart. 

Somewhere behind him a door swings open. There’s a light tread on the wood. Before Kurt even turns around he knows it’s the only person he wants to see.

“Hey,” says Blaine, his voice low. “I wanted to check on you.”

“Hey.” Kurt watches Blaine draw close.

“Are you okay?” Blaine frowns and shrugs a little as though he’s apologizing for the limitations of words like ‘okay’.

“I am. Mostly. I just wanted some time. I’m fine,” Kurt says. “Really.”

“Of course. Sorry, I’ll go back in.” Blaine pauses for a fraction then turns away. He’s silhouetted against the open doorway.

“No,” Kurt says softly, and however soft, the word feels like it’s torn from him. Blaine looks at Kurt and waits. Kurt says, “Please stay.”

Blaine treads slowly back toward Kurt. Kurt watches, lets his gaze flicker up Blaine’s body, over his mouth and catch on his eyes. Blaine bites his bottom lip. He’s so close. Kurt doesn’t even think. He holds out his hands and Blaine reaches to take them, as easily as if they’d never stopped touching one another.

“Come up to my room,” breathes Kurt. “Please.”

Blaine’s eyes are steady on Kurt’s. “Okay.”

They walk through the silent games room and down the hallway. Everyone’s in full voice in the living room. Unique sings a dazzling run. There’s a bright burst of laughter from Mercedes, there are murmurs of conversation. Someone is beating a rhythm on their guitar.

The whole way, Kurt feels Blaine close behind him. When they reach the stairs Blaine places his hand in Kurt’s, so Kurt leads him up to his room. He closes the door behind them. The attic space feels even smaller now, with the two of them crowded into it. The sloping ceiling presses down on them. Kurt can’t help but glance at the narrow single bed.

It’s awkward suddenly - they’re too close together and still so far apart. There’s so much anticipation. Kurt invited Blaine up here. Now he feels exposed and uncertain.

But Blaine smiles and that makes it easier. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his expression serious.

Kurt doesn’t answer, just closes the space between them, the air gusting from his lungs. There’s nothing gentle in the kiss. Kurt’s teeth bump against Blaine’s lips. His hands curl into Blaine’s hair and pull his mouth closer. Their bodies align unthinkingly, pieces that long ago learned to fit so easily together.

For a long time, Kurt believed this boy would be the only person to ever touch him this way. That dream’s long over. They’ll never be what he imagined then. He draws back, breathless. 

They’re apart for a still moment. Then Blaine leans in and reaches out a hand to cup Kurt’s cheek. Kurt has to close his eyes. Just that simple, careful touch, and he feels like he’s shattering.

“Kurt,” says Blaine. His voice is soft. It wraps tightly inside Kurt. Kurt turns his head to press his lips against Blaine’s palm. He opens his eyes. 

“Okay?” asks Blaine.

Kurt thinks. “I’m okay.” It’s mostly a decision.

Blaine studies Kurt for a time then sits on the tiny bed. He speaks softly. “Come here,” he says, beckoning to Kurt to sit down beside him. Kurt does so.

Blaine is stunning here, so confident and comfortable with all the pleasures and limits of his body. Kurt loves that about him. But it stings too. Because somehow this seems easy for Blaine.

For Kurt it feels devastating. Everything he needs is right there for him to grasp and yet however much he wants it, it feels frighteningly, achingly impossible. 

But it’s Blaine. Kurt has had a long time to consider this. So he holds himself together. He laces his fingers with Blaine’s on the bed between them. Then he takes a shaky breath and leans to kiss Blaine again. This time it’s gentle. Kurt’s lips on Blaine’s softer ones, their mouths gently open against one another.

Suddenly there’s no outside, just the four walls of the room and them in between. They dissolve into one another for a drawn out moment.

“Oh god,” Blaine breathes. Kurt laughs a little, pleased.

“Lie down with me,” says Kurt. Blaine shuffles and slides up until his head is on the pillow. His body is stretched out for Kurt.

Kurt undoes the buttons on Blaine’s shirt and pulls it off. Blaine’s chest rises and falls underneath. Kurt runs his fingertips over his nipples and Blaine shudders. They don’t talk much. This is nothing like it was when sex was new, when every exploration was accompanied by conversation, constant checking in and nervous, fascinated laughter. Instead they let their hands and eyes and breath explore places that were once familiar.

When Kurt pulls his own shirt over his head, Blaine slides out of his pants and briefs. Kurt does the same. He covers Blaine’s body with his. The contact, skin to skin, steals the air from Kurt’s lungs.

Their hips roll together, their cocks sliding and rubbing against one another. Blaine whispers soft endearments in Kurt’s ears. Soon Blaine is shaking with each thrust and Kurt is frantic with need.

He keeps his eyes on Blaine’s and doesn’t close them, maintains that contact even as he comes. It’s dazzlingly white, like a shot in his back, a tremor through all his limbs. He’s aware of nothing else, save Blaine arching beneath him.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, panting. “Kurt.” Kurt drops his body forward onto Blaine’s and sobs against his shoulder. Blaine wraps his arms tight around Kurt and holds on.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.” Kurt keeps sobbing helplessly.

After they’ve cleaned up, Blaine settles into sleep. He curls his body close around Kurt’s. Kurt lies still in the narrow bed next to this lovely, lovely boy. This boy he somehow couldn’t keep himself away from, even now after so long, even on Finn’s memorial weekend. And everything they did was perfect. For a moment it felt like Blaine touched every part of him.

Kurt’s mind flickers from pleasure to fear, from pleasure to fear. His heart beats hard behind his ribs. He’s pretty sure he trusts this thing. Over the past eleven months, rebuilding this friendship, he’s been given every reason to trust Blaine. But at the same time Kurt’s been looking after himself, keeping his heart hidden. And he’s felt safe. With Blaine it feels like everything about Kurt is cracked wide open.

Blaine moves in his sleep. His bare thigh is pressed over Kurt’s. Kurt wants him. For a moment Kurt closes his eyes and lets himself revel in how very, very much he could stay, forever. And yet he can’t stop shaking. He’s not sure he wants someone to be that integral to his happiness again.

Perhaps things will look different in the morning. The bed is warm and Blaine warm in it. Kurt snuggles down. He lets Blaine’s slow breathing and the heavy arm draped across his chest drag him into sleep.

***

When Kurt wakes he’s still worried. He’s also almost falling out of the bed despite Blaine’s arm wrapped around him. It’s early, but there’s enough light to see by. 

Blaine’s asleep. Close up, his face is familiar and exquisite - his mouth relaxed, his lashes long and black, curled against his skin. 

Kurt shifts out from under Blaine’s arm, moving softly so Blaine isn’t disturbed. Moving away feels like he’s opening a hole in his chest. He frowns, pulls on some clothes and pads downstairs.

Kurt stops in surprise as he enters the living room. Rachel is curled up in one corner of the couch. The blinds are closed from last night and the room is mostly dark.

“Morning,” Kurt says softly. “Coffee?”

Rachel shakes her head. “Maybe soon. You disappeared during the singing last night.”

He nods.

“We missed you. You were with Blaine?” she asks.

He nods again, not sure where this is going.

For a moment she looks down. He knows how hard it is for her. But then she gives a tiny smile. “That’s good,” she says. “He loves you. You love him.”

Kurt sits at the other end of the couch. He reaches out and takes her hand. “That didn’t save us before.”

“No,” she says. After a moment he peers through the halflight and looks at her closely.

“Oh Rachel,” he says helplessly. “You’ve been crying.”

“It’s hard not to,” she says. “It’s not like I want to cry anymore. But here. Everyone talking about him. It’s good. It’s just constant and painful and it’s wearing me out. I don’t think I know how to stop crying anymore.”

Kurt slides across the couch and wraps his arm around her. She curls into his chest. “Do you want me to take you home?” he asks as she sniffles into his shoulder.

She looks up at him hopefully. “We can leave Santana?”

“She’ll manage. There’s room in the car with the others. Or she might go home with Brittany. It’ll be fine, Rach. We can go right away if you want to.”

Rachel gives him a teary smile. “Yes, please. You’re the best, Kurt. That is exactly what I want.”

“Well that’s what you shall have then,” he says.

He heads upstairs to grab his things. He’s not trying to be silent, not exactly. He just doesn’t know what he would say if Blaine woke up. Before he leaves he looks down at Blaine, so sweet in Kurt’s bed. Blaine’s eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady.

Kurt longs for so much from him. Longs to give him so much, too. He can’t help himself. Blaine is beautiful. Kurt leans down and kisses Blaine’s cheek, feather light. He’s relieved when Blaine mutters something unintelligible and stays asleep.

***

Blaine wakes to light angling through the curtains. He sits up slowly and rubs a hand through his hair. He feels satisfied, his body happy and aching.

“Kurt?” he murmurs. He blinks and looks around. The room is empty. He blinks again, frowns. All Kurt’s luggage has gone.

“Shit,” he says under his breath. “Shit.”

He scrambles up and pulls on his clothing which is piled on the floor. He’s just finding his phone under the bed cover when it buzzes with a message. It’s from Kurt - just one word.

_Sorry._

“Shit,” says Blaine again. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a couple of breaths.

He should have predicted this. It’s Finn’s memorial weekend. They’re all in mourning. He should have known this would happen as soon as Kurt reached out to him in the dark on the deck. Even more than that he should have known after they had sex. He should have seen this coming as they lay there, so close in that tiny single bed, with Kurt sobbing brokenly against Blaine’s shoulder.

Of course Kurt felt crowded by all of it. Of course Kurt’s gone. Blaine groans. He feels stupid.

It’s just that it felt extraordinary to be allowed to hold Kurt after so long. He’d watched his fingers run across Kurt’s skin and felt bone deep joy and relief. Kurt carries himself so carefully that it’s humbling to be invited close. Even more to be trusted to see and touch Kurt in those breathless moments when he no longer has a hold on himself. So Blaine had met Kurt’s eyes and taken everything Kurt was giving him. And in doing so he had blocked out the possibility that it all might freak Kurt out.

Blaine smooths his hair and sits cross legged on the bed. The others will be wondering where he is, but for now he has to focus and send a text to Kurt. He tries to sound calm and considerate.

_I hope you’re okay. I’ll see you during the week. x_

Blaine presses send just as a knock comes at the door. Sam sticks his rumpled head in and grimaces apologetically.

“Morning,” he says. “I thought you might be up here. We all figured you’d gone with them at first.”

Blaine doesn’t bother to feign ignorance. “With them?”

“Rachel left this morning. With Kurt.”

Blaine meets Sam’s eyes. “Oh. No, I’m still here. I just slept up here.”

“Yeah you did,” says Sam.

Blaine sighs. “And then he left.”

Sam looks around the room. “Yeah.” He pauses. “They left a note saying Rachel had to get back.”

“Fuck, Sam. I think I might have destroyed this thing. Again.”

Sam frowns. “Number one. What have I told you? You can’t just go around thinking you’ve destroyed things. Number two. I doubt it. I mean, did you force him into doing anything he didn’t want to do?”

“No. God, no. Of course not. But I should have thought about what he needed, not what I wanted.” Blaine feels the weight of falling short. 

Sam considers him. “Okay. Could be. But then Kurt’s a big boy. He’s always made up his own mind about stuff. Maybe it was what he needed.” He pauses and looks around the room eloquently. Blaine is suddenly very aware that the room smells like sex. Amazing sex. “Maybe he needed to let himself go with someone.”

Blaine thinks about it. It makes sense. “Then why’s he gone?”

“Well, maybe it wasn’t as good as he hoped,” says Sam. His eyes twinkle a little.

Blaine protests. “What? No. It was amazing.”

Sam grins like he’s been vindicated. “Well then, there you go. You might want to open a window in here,” he says.

Blaine blushes and stands to do so, letting the crisp morning air into the room.

“You missed some musical magic last night,” says Sam. “Rachel sang a killer --- song. Marley, Kitty and I did a Peter Paul and Mary medley. And then…” He pauses for effect. “Unique and Mercedes sang Grace Jones.”

“No way,” says Blaine. He slips his shoes on and follows Sam out. “Grace Jones. I really wish I’d been around for that.”

Sam looks back at him with raised eyebrows. “No you don’t,” he says.

Blaine flashes back to the night before, to Kurt’s body and mouth and quick, lovely eyes all there right above him. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs again.

“You’re right. I really don’t,” he says.

** 

Kurt doesn’t reply to Blaine’s message. During the day Blaine only thinks about him once every twenty minutes or so. He takes some pride in that self-discipline and in studiously avoiding checking his phone for a new message every ten minutes. But at night when he closes his eyes all he can see is Kurt. And now there are new memories to add to the old.

Somehow it’s still a pretty good few days. Blaine finds a route to NYADA that shaves seven minutes from his shortest commute time and takes him past some awesome superhero street art. He performs “My Generation _”_ in his musical counterculture seminar, impressing his professor and earning a standing ovation from the class by adding a dance routine he worked out with Mike over a game of pool on the weekend. He eats well. He buys two tickets to see an interesting looking revival of _Allegro_ off-Broadway. He’ll take Sam or Henry along if he needs to.

On Friday he finishes a paper that’s due that day, then heads to the piano bar. The trains are infuriatingly slow. He makes it just in time for his gig.

The gig has been great for months now. The small crowd is enthusiastic and encouraging. But Blaine still worries that this week will be the week that people realize his limitations and just stop coming altogether. He squares his shoulders and walks in. To his relief, the back room of the bar is packed. Blaine beams around at everyone. It’s a thrill to think they’re all there to see him. It makes him want to practice twice as much.

“You should hear this guy,” says a tiny woman on his way in. “I can’t stop coming back to watch.” Blaine gives her and her friend a smile.

Elliot waves from their usual table. Dani is sitting with a girl Blaine doesn’t recognize. On their other side Trent and Nick and Jeff are cheerfully supporting Blaine as a former Warbler. Sam’s there too. He gives Blaine a thumbs up. Beside him are Artie and Mercedes. 

And Kurt. 

The last time Blaine saw Kurt they were boneless and sweaty, pressed close together in a narrow bed. Now he’s pulled together, precise and gorgeous, his eyes quick to meet Blaine’s.

Blaine’s heart thumps in his chest. Sure, Kurt’s come every week, but somehow Blaine had talked himself into thinking he wouldn’t be here tonight.

He can’t help himself. He considers changing the set. There’s so much that he’s feeling - nerves, hope, some chagrin about their night together, frustration with himself and, to be honest, frustration with Kurt too. Fear that he’ll be hurt, and everything will come tumbling down again. And love, huge and terrifying and unstoppable.

He longs to take the risk, put himself out there and share all the things he feels in song. Even if nothing comes of it, love can never be a bad thing.In his head Blaine runs through all the romantic songs in his repertoire - the ones that say, _There’s no one else for me but you_ or _I will always love you_ or _Baby, come back._

Blaine sits at the piano and moves the stool close enough to reach the pedals. He looks down at the keys for a moment. The truth is he doesn’t know why Kurt’s here. However much Blaine believes in their love, however powerful their night together, there’s the possibility that Kurt’s not at that place and his presence here is just a reiteration of their friendship. Singing won’t change that.

They need to talk.

Blaine looks at the sheets he’s placed on the music rack above the keys. He starts to play the set he planned.

Even without these being love songs, mostly, he feels Kurt’s consistent gaze. It runs up Blaine’s spine and slowly fills his heart. When he starts singing he lets himself go with it. Whatever comes next, he has a responsibility to his audience and to himself. He’s going to be the best he can be. He’s going to make this performance amazing.

After the show, Blaine does a little bow. He helps Star get set up for karaoke, then joins everyone at the table.

“You were incredible,” says Kurt as Blaine approaches. His face is lit up and lovely. Blaine wants to kiss him.

“Thank you,” says Blaine.

Kurt scoots across on the seat to give Blaine room beside him. It’s a careful offer. Blaine’s heart skips. The seat is small enough that when he sits their hips and thighs brush. Blaine feels Kurt’s every movement, every inhale. It’s impossible not to remember having his hands on Kurt’s pale skin.

Trent is saying something about baroque music and authenticity. It’s all Blaine can do to concentrate and nod in the right places.

At length, people start to leave. Blaine holds his breath every time someone stands, hoping that Kurt doesn’t leave with them. Dani and the new girl, Cecile, head home. Sam and Mercedes too, with Sam’s arm wrapped tightly around Mercedes’ waist. Artie heads off to a late showing with some film school friends. And Elliot convinces Trent and Nick and Jeff to join him at a nearby drag bar. He winks at Blaine as he shepherds them out.

They’re finally alone, if it counts as alone to be sitting at a table in a piano bar with two forty-something women on stage trading lines on Matchbox 20s _Push_. Kurt shifts a little on the seat and turns his body to face Blaine.

“So,” he says. “Hi. Do you have time to talk?”

“Of course,” says Blaine. “Always.” The nerves and hope bubble in his stomach.

“Okay.” Kurt frowns a little and seems to lose momentum. He rests his arm on the table in front of him and twists the stem of his glass. Blaine watches his fingers for a moment.

“I was so happy to see you were here,” says Blaine.

Kurt’s shoulders drop a little and he sits more easily. “You were great tonight,” he says. His eyes are bright. “I was so proud of you.”

Blaine looks down. He’s touched.

Kurt takes a quick breath. “I’m sorry I left,” he says, unexpectedly.

“Kurt. You don’t need to apologise.”

Kurt goes on. “I didn’t want to wake you. I just- I had to go and if I woke you. I didn’t know what to say or how to explain.” He’s toying with his drink again.

Blaine reaches out and puts his hand over Kurt’s on the table. “You didn’t need to explain, Kurt.” He runs his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles.

Kurt looks down at their hands. “There were so many people in my head. Finn and Rachel. And you.”

“I’m sorry,” says Blaine, almost automatically. He hates being a drain on Kurt. He pulls his hand back from Kurt’s a fraction.

Kurt places his other hand on top of Blaine’s, keeping Blaine’s hand in place. “No that’s not- you don’t need to apologize. I was so grateful that you were there.” He looks up. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” says Blaine. “Okay.” Because grateful is good, but it’s not really something that Blaine wants from Kurt right now.

Kurt leans closer, his gaze flickering down to Blaine’s lips. Blaine bends into it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever resist that look. Their hands are still clasped on the table when their lips meet. It’s everything Blaine’s longed for here - sweet and perfect, huger than anything. It’s also a little terrifying.

Blaine breaks away. “Please, you can’t-” Kurt blinks at him, pulls back. Blaine hesitates. Then he says, “Please don’t mess me around here, Kurt.”

Kurt frowns, confused.

Blaine feels foolish. He says. “I don’t think I could take it.”

“I’m not... I wouldn’t.” Kurt inhales. “Okay. What do you mean?” he asks. His attention is fixed on Blaine.

Blaine nods slowly. He looks into Kurt’s eyes. “Look. It’s-I understand if this is just something you need, to let go and just be with someone. It’s not like I’d ever hold that against you. It’s just that, for me… I need to protect myself here because we’ve always been extraordinary together. I don’t think my heart could take it if I woke up again and found you gone.”

Kurt draws one hand back and rubs it over his eyes. “Okay.” He still looks confused.

Blaine says, “I’m glad I was there over the weekend to be that person for you. I want to be there for you. I’d love for you to have everything you want. Only, I’m really sorry. This can’t just be a casual thing. Not for me.” 

Kurt looks at him with such fondness and maybe a little exasperation. “Blaine, I’ve never- Just a sec. _You’re_ the one who does the casual thing.”

“Not with you,” Blaine says simply.

“No,” says Kurt on a breath. “Not with me.” He looks away around the bar then back to Blaine. “Let me be clear here. I was grateful that you were there over the weekend. Not grateful that someone was there. Grateful that you were there. No one else. It might not have been the best timing, and I’m truly sorry about that. It was hard to make sense of anything that weekend. But Blaine, I didn’t leave because I felt like it was a casual thing. Kind of the opposite.”

“Oh,” says Blaine.

In the background some guy is butchering _Sweet Child O’ Mine_.

Kurt winces. He says, “Have you eaten?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No. I didn’t get a chance. I had to race just to get here on time.”

“We could get some sushi and head to the loft. We’d have some time… to talk or whatever. Rachel’s in tech rehearsal. They haven’t been finishing until well after midnight.”

It sounds perfect, Kurt letting Blaine back into his space and maybe on new, dazzling terms. “Okay,” Blaine says.

“I promise I’ll be there in the morning,” says Kurt and Blaine’s smile is reflected in his eyes.

**

They take the subway home. Kurt leans in close to Blaine as the train bumps and sways. They walk from the station hand in hand. There are people around, there are cars and stoops and street lights. Kurt’s focus is all on the boy beside him.

This feels like so many of the dreams Kurt had for them - Blaine in New York, Blaine by his side walking home with him from a gig. It’s the same future in a way. Not the movie musical he imagined, not the perfect love story where they’d only ever looked at one another. This is something else. It’s not as pretty: it’s been tougher, it’s messier. But it’s still them.

When they reach the loft, Kurt slides the door closed and locks it behind them. For now the whole space is theirs. He flicks the light switch and the room comes to life.

Blaine places the food on the table and leans against the back of a chair. Kurt moves around the room. He takes Blaine’s jacket and hangs it with his own. He finds glasses and drinks and silverware. He puts on some music. He feels the intensity and amusement in Blaine’s gaze as he moves.

When everything is in its place he stops. He’s standing by the table. He turns his head and finds Blaine, still watching. Blaine half smiles and hands him a glass of water. Their fingers brush. Kurt feels it in every nerve. All the tiny things they do for one another anticipate so much more to come.

Outside a horn blares. Inside there’s just them. When Kurt speaks he surprises himself. “I love you,” he says. 

Blaine is in the process of sitting down. He stops, caught. Then he smiles. “I love you too.”

It feels like there’s no rush at all, like maybe they already have forever.

They talk over dinner. Not about the future, not really. But they talk about their classes and Mercedes’ birthday and Cooper’s new girlfriend and how much Blaine likes the bratwurst from a particular German food stand. Every conversation is colored with a mutual tomorrow.

Then Kurt downs the last of his water. When he lifts his eyes he meets Blaine’s bright gaze across the table. They hold still. Suddenly there’s an urgency to this. It buzzes like electricity in the air between them.

“So,” says Kurt.

“Yes?” says Blaine.

Kurt laughs softly. “I am so bad at this.”

“You’re really, really not.” Blaine smiles, certain, and Kurt forgets to think.

The air rushes out of Kurt’s lungs as he leans forward, lifts a hand to Blaine’s cheek and kisses him. They stand up from the table without losing contact. Blaine slides a hand around Kurt’s waist and tugs his body close. Kurt goes easily.

They make it across the room. They’re breathless. Kurt feels the joy of this bubble inside him. Beside Kurt’s bed, Blaine reaches out to unbutton Kurt’s shirt. He kisses Kurt’s skin with delicate kisses as he reveals it. He reaches to undo Kurt’s pants and pull them over his hips. His eyes flick back to Kurt’s. Kurt revels in the intimacy. It’s never felt like just their skin meeting.

Kurt lies down on his bed and draws Blaine’s body to cover his own. 

They wake to slanted sunlight and Rachel hollering from the living room.

“Kurt! It’s 11! I’m heading to the farmer’s market. Do you need anything?”

Kurt blinks. He can hardly think. He’s aware of every muscle. Blaine is warm and perfect beside him. “No,” he manages.

“Okay. Bye Kurt!” she says and then after a moment, “Bye Blaine.” She slides the front door shut with a bang. 

“Bye,” Blaine mumbles and Kurt can’t help but giggle at him. His hair is curling in all directions and his eyes are heavy lidded. He’s the most beautiful thing Kurt has ever seen.

“What?” says Blaine with a little huff. He rubs at his eyes. He’s still half asleep. “What’re you laughing at.”

“I love you,” says Kurt, still giggling.

Blaine pushes out his bottom lip a little but Kurt knows he can’t resist. “I love you too,” Blaine says and Kurt leans over him and kisses him.

Their legs are tangled. Kurt pushes Blaine a little so he rolls to face away from Kurt. Then he wraps himself around Blaine’s body and buries his face into Blaine’s shoulders to breathe him in. He kisses gently over a bite mark pressed into Blaine’s neck. Blaine’s shoulders flex back and he moans, soft and sleepy. The noise wakes Kurt’s body. He presses harder against him, his cock butting between Blaine’s ass cheeks.

He trails more kisses across Blaine’s shoulders and reaches around to run a hand down Blaine’s tiny belly and take hold of his cock. Blaine pushes his ass back against Kurt, demanding closer contact. Kurt closes his eyes as he thrusts forward, reveling in the heat and blood that’s thudding through him. Everything with Blaine feels boundless, almost too much. It always has. And yet there’s safety here. He knows Blaine will be right there with him if he falls too far. But it’s more than that, the risk is worth it to have this unmatched joy.

He pulls back a little and Blaine moans in protest. One hand reaches blindly behind him as though to grab Kurt. “No. Come back,” Blaine says. “Don’t go.”

Kurt reaches in a drawer for a condom. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. Blaine rolls to face him. Kurt threads his fingers with Blaine's and they lie still, just a breath between them. When Blaine draws Kurt close he goes eagerly.

**


End file.
